The Ties That Bind
by Yogi Dee
Summary: Finished.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I don't own them. I don't own anything but my car, and while it's nicer than the Probe, it's not worth suing me. No infringement was intended here. I'm not getting paid. I'm not stealing the characters. I'm borrowing them for my own purposes. I'll give them back when I'm done. Keep your pants on._

"Jennifer," Mary sighed with frustration. "Try to calm down." She hated dealing with emotional witnesses. Or emotions, for that matter. Emotions clouded your head. Emotions caused attachment. Attachment caused heartache. It was always a better idea to maintain a respectable distance and risk being called cold or calculating than end up in pieces. Again.

As her witness rapidly spiraled towards hysteria despite her calming words, Mary pinched the bridge of her nose. This needed to stop. So many things in her life needed to stop.

Changing tactics, she sharpened her tone and raised the volume a few decibels. "Jennifer, breathe." Mary commanded, snapping her fingers in front of the woman's face a few times. It worked. Mary finally had her attention, and when Jennifer finally brought her tearstained eyes to meet her own, she felt a twinge of guilt about being so blunt. She knew that this kind of change was hard on most people, and someone who had just lost as much as Jennifer had lost was bound to be a tad distraught. Just because it was Mary's deepest, most secret dream to move away and start all over fresh didn't mean that the average person walking in off the street could be expected to feel the same way. Most people would have some trouble cutting all ties with their identities and beginning anew. To Mary, it sounded like panacea. _"Marshall would be so proud if he heard me say that."_ She thought to herself. But reality was calling louder than ever, and it's voice was reaching a feverish wail. Hadn't she just put a stop to this? It was to be expected, but that didn't mean that she had time to sit around and weep. That could be done later, but right now, Mary had more important matters to deal with.

"Jennifer, the Indiana office told me that you have no family left, is that right?" She paused and waited for confirmation. A slight nod and a hiccup where all the response the frazzled young woman could muster. "Okay." Mary softened her tone, at once understanding just exactly what it is like to feel all alone in the world. "Well, if you're going to be here by yourself, then that will really just make the transition a bit faster. Less paperwork, too. Let's get this filled out and set you up in your new digs, okay?" She feigned a cheerful tone, not actually expecting it to help lift the girl's spirits, but trying valiantly all the same. As she slid a stack of papers toward Jennifer and started to explain the rules and regulations, her cell phone vibrated on her hip.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry. I have to take this." Mary stood and strode to a corner of the office, keeping an eye on her sobbing witness who was struggling to pull herself together long enough to focus on the paperwork in front of her.

"Hello." She answered, recognizing the number on the display. She chuckled a little as she remembered one of Marshall's speeches about how amazing an LCD display really is. He had spent a good ten minutes describing the exact way light and charge and photons or whatever all worked together to make the pretty, pretty colors. She hadn't been paying attention all that closely, to tell the truth, and she had no real burning desire to know the inner workings of her cellular phone, but the excitement in his voice belied his own interest. Plus, it was kind of cute, she admitted to herself later. Not that she'd ever tell him that. Mary turned her attention back to the speaker on the other end of the line.

Marshall looked up from his seat at his desk when he heard his partner slap her forehead with the heel of her hand and mutter something that sounded inexplicably like "Oh, crap." _"Jinx, again."_ He thought to himself. Or Brandi. Yes, they were her family, and Marshall was a man that understood the importance of family, but sometimes, he worried that those two would be the death of his fair haired partner. She needed a break. A vacation. A reprieve from the very people upon whom she was supposed to be able to depend once in a while. He frowned as he contemplated the dynamics of Mary's relationship with her mother and sister, a subject on which he had spent no small amount of time attempting to decipher.

"Yeah, yeah. No, I remember." Mary was shaking her head, eyes turned up toward the heavens. "I can't right now, I'm sorry. I…" She paused, obviously listening to the response of the person to whom she was speaking. "Are you sure?"

She looked relieved at whatever reply the mysterious person had offered, and Marshall's current level of interest ratcheted up from curious to confused. Brandi or Jinx would just insist and badger if they wanted Mary to do something, not understand and let it go this easily. Was a guilt trip in short order? He waited, but none appeared to be forthcoming. Marshall idly wondered who she was talking to as he turned his attentions back to filling out the last of his forms for the day.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, babe." Marshall felt his ears physically perk up at this familiar moniker. "Babe?" He wondered, a lump catching in the back of his throat. Mary was not the type of girl who readily bestowed such a term of endearment. Her name for him was "Doofus," and while he had grown to understand that she used it with a sort of affection, it grated him that someone else got "Babe" while he was seemingly forever stuck being "Doofus."

"I might be a few hours, I'm sorry." Marshall's brow knit together when he heard Mary apologizing. Mary didn't apologize.

"Are you sure you don't mind waiting?" Her facial expression relaxed visibly, and Marshall could almost feel the tension drain from her shoulders from across the room.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. It might be a few hours before I finish up here. What time do you land?"

A friend from out of town. Marshall was intrigued, and a bit apprehensive.

"Okay. I'll try to get away, but you understand, I might no t be exactly on time." She smiled, and Marshall noted that the smile was genuine, and then took mental inventory of all of Mary's actions the previous week. She had seemed a bit off. A little more relaxed. Almost excited about something, but he'd just chalked it up to relief about ending her relationship with Raphael. Then again, perhaps he was transferring HIS feelings regarding the breakup.

"Everything all right?" He drawled, almost hesitant to intervene. Mary did not characteristically appreciate people intruding on her private business. But then again, he also knew that she didn't necessarily view him as just "people." He smiled a smidgen at the thought. _"I've gotta get outside my head."_ He admonished himself, and focused on Mary.

"Huh?" She turned to him distractedly. "Oh, yeah. Sure."

"You need something?" He took a stab. "Brandi lose her keys?" It was a safe bet, he reminded himself, but he knew the truth. He was fishing for information.

"No, Brandi's still in Miami." Mary frowned and glanced at her watch. She was going to be hours longer. She'd just gotten back from picking up her witness, and now she had hours of paperwork left, then she knew she'd have to spend a while getting Jennifer settled in, go grocery shopping with her, etcetera. Never let it be said that Mary Shannon isn't dedicated to her job. She'd spend whatever time it takes to ensure her witnesses are comfortable, or as least as much so as possible. "I just forgot that I need to pick someone up from the airport today."

"Do you need me finish this up for you?" He offered, still interested in discovering the identity of the mystery individual, but more interested in helping out Mary. Not that he expected her to let him, but he wouldn't be the gentleman his mother raised him to be if he didn't at least try.

"No." Mary shook her head ruefully. "She's not ready to deal with another person today. It's getting to be too much for her as it is. I should finish this." She glanced inside the glass-windowed room to see that her witness had actually calmed down enough to start writing. _"It's a start."_ Mary thought to herself with relief.

Mary's capacity for compassion and ability to understand exactly what her witnesses needed from her was uncanny to Marshall. For a woman who had so little insight into her own behavior, she was extraordinarily intuitive regarding the needs of those around her. So long as they weren't named Mary, that is. Marshall wondered if she had ever given five seconds thought to figuring out what she wanted. What she needed. She voiced it often enough in a fit of pent up rage and anger at the world and her life in general, but he doubted that any of it ever went beyond just that. It wouldn't be like Mary to be terribly self-serving. He wondered if her tendency for self-neglect was born of a childhood of parental neglect.

"Could you do me a huge favor, though?" Mary's voice was tentative and unsure. She hated asking for favors.

Marshall opened his eyes wide at this, forehead wrinkling a little as he wracked his brain to remember the last time Mary had openly asked him for a favor. No beating around the bush here, she needed something from him, and he would move heaven and earth to ensure that she got it.

"Shoot." He leaned back in his desk chair and tried to look nonchalant.

"Can you pick someone up at the airport for me?" She was scribbling something down on a scrap sheet of paper, and thrust it at him. "She said she'd wait, but you know…it blows to be stuck at the airport."

"Of course." He glanced at the name she'd written. Kathleen Jasper. There was a time, too, but no terminal. "Where should I take her?" HE called after Mary as she rushed back into the private room where her witness was waiting.

"My place." She called over her shoulder, only furthering Marshall's confusion.

Filing away his notes, he logged off the computer, tidied up his desk, gathered his things and poked his head into the room where Mary was working with Jennifer.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt." He apologized. "Any idea what terminal?"

"Nope." Came Mary's customary short reply.

"Airline?"

"Maybe Delta?" She seemed to think about it for a moment. "Or United? "

"I'll figure it out." He had an arrival time, a badge, and an ID. He shouldn't have too much trouble cajoling some airport official into giving him the proper information. There were times when the job did have perks, he thought dryly as he sauntered out the door to pick up Mary's mystery guest.

Marshall occupied his thoughts while he maneuvered his truck across town, all the while attempting to decipher who exactly he was transporting. He knew Mary's family, so it wasn't her sister or her mother. It could be a friend from college, he mused, as he eased his truck into a space in short-term parking. Maybe a friend from the Marshal service back in New Jersey. A childhood friend? That one he ruled out fairly quickly. Mary wasn't the type of sentimental person to hang on to childhood friends. From what Marshall could determine, Mary had tried to make as clean a break as possible with her childhood and her past when she'd made the move to New Mexico. Her mother and sister showing up on her doorstep shortly thereafter had put an obvious kink in her plans, but Mary being Mary, she couldn't just send them away. Her sense of loyalty and protectiveness would override her own desire for independence and solitude every time. And when she was in dire need of solitude, she would show up on Marshall's doorstep with a bottle of tequila in hand, and the two of them would drink in comfortable silence until Mary exploded with bottled up emotion and frustration. He grabbed the cardboard he'd swiped from beside the trash bin at the office, and painstakingly scribed "Kathleen Jasper" in thick black Sharpie. Tossing the marker back in the glove box, he locked his truck and hustled into the arrival terminal.

The airport wasn't as packed as it usually was when he flew. Apparently arriving at eight o'clock pm on a Thursday meant you didn't have to jostle with big crowds. Making his way to a security guard, he whipped out his ID, and asked for direction to someone who could give him flight information. The guard assumed, as Marshall was willing to allow, that he was on official US Marshal business, and quickly whisked him away to a counter, where a middle-aged woman flirted her best with him while looking up the flight info.

"I have a Kathleen Jasper booked on flight 849 out of Minneapolis, hon." She batted her eyelashes at him hopefully, and Marshall graced her with a tight smile. He wasn't really in the mood to be toyed with, but he appreciated her assistance all the same. Plus, she wasn't his type. He had developed a penchant for hot tempered blondes recently.

"It's due to land any moment now." The overly-coiffured attendant cooed at him.

"That's her." The arrival times matched, so he truly prayed that it was the right person. Mary could be a bit testy if he brought home the wrong houseguest. "What terminal?"

Marshall found a beam to lean against and waited just past the TSA checkpoint outside the terminal. There were already faces appearing, coming through the gates, and he searched each one for familiarity. Not certain of what he was looking for, he held up the sign, feeling a little dopey about being one of those people. Marshall was used to feeling a little dopey, but he didn't relish the idea of his first introduction to Mary's mystery guest to be one of shame. First impressions are lasting, he reminded himself, but they could change. He and Mary had taken an immediate dislike to each other, but that changed into professional respect, and later friendship. Mary reminded him of his apparent lack of cool almost daily, and although he knew she did it jokingly, he couldn't help but wonder if he really was as out of touch with her world as she made it seem. Then again, when things got tough and hairy, Marshall knew that he was the person Mary most depended on, and that thought settled him somewhat.

"Excuse me?" A timid voice brought him out of his reverie. He'd been so caught up in his own world that he'd forgotten to look for…whomever he was looking for. "I'm Kathleen Jasper."

She said it as more of a question, and Marshall took a split second to look her over. She was tiny. Far shorter than Mary, and probably a foot shorter than he. He judged her to be maybe five feet tall. Five one, tops. She was smartly dressed. Dark jeans, casual flats. A simple shirt underneath a smart, tailored jacket. She had dusty green eyes, and a smile that reminded him of…Mary.

"Umm." She started nervously. "I'm looking for my cousin. Mary Shannon."

"Right." Marshall snapped back to reality. "Mary couldn't make it. I'm Marshall Mann. I work with Mary. She asked me to come pick you up." He studied her face and noted the flash of her green eyes.

"What do you mean, "she couldn't make it?"" Kathleen inquired sternly. "Is she hurt? What happened? Where is she?" Kathleen craned her neck around, checking behind him and all around. Was this a joke?

Realizing that his vagueness had caused her concern, Marshall hurried to allay her fears. "No. Nothing like that. She just got caught up on something at work and couldn't get away. She's fine."

"She's not in the hospital, then? Because I'm O-negative. I can donate blood if she's hurt. I think, I can, anyway. I was in Mexico a few months ago, but I didn't drink the water, or anything. Does that disqualify me?" She held her left arm out, palm side up as if to offer her veins and very blood to Mary, should she require it. It would seem as though the ability to babble was genetic.

"She's not in the hospital." Marshall quirked an eyebrow. This was new. "She's perfectly healthy, I promise." He smiled reassuringly at the shorter woman in front of him. "You said Mary's your cousin?" Marshall had yet to meet a family member of Mary's who was actually concerned about her well-being. He had expected the young woman to be upset that Mary wasn't there to greet her personally, but this was not the reaction he had anticipated. Kathleen, it appeared, was breaking all kinds of stereotypes that Marshall had built up regarding the Shannon family.

"Our mothers are sisters." She confirmed. "I'm sorry. I forgot your name. I'm horrible with names. I thought…" She left her sentence hanging, and Marshall understood that she had been genuinely frightened for her cousin. Real, genuine concern.

"Marshall Mann." He extended his hand, and warmly shook hers when she reciprocated.

"Right. Marshall." Kathleen nodded. "Mary's mentioned you. It's nice to meet you."

"Really?" Again with the eyebrow. "Well it's nice to meet you, too, Kathleen."

"Please, it's Katie." She rolled her eyes in a way that only one of Mary's relatives could, and Marshall started to wonder if it was genetic or a learned behavior. "Can I take your bags?" She was dwarfed by what looked to be a very heavy carry-on, and the backpack she carried appeared to weight nearly as much as she.

"I've got them, but thanks." Katie declined politely and pointed to the sign for baggage claim. "I have to get my checked stuff." She gestured toward the line of people moving in the direction of the sign.

"After you." Marshall made a sweeping movement that made Katie smile a little as she walked a bit in front of him.

There was already a crowd of people forming a wall around the baggage carousel, and Katie amused Marshall by the way that she slipped her way through the crowd. As small as she was, he had half expected her to be timid and stand back, but she had no problem elbowing her way to the front. Clearly there were at least a few traits she shared with Mary. He followed closely behind her, noting the way she shifted the bags she was carrying ever so often, stretched, took a deep breath, and settled them back on her shoulders. They were heavy, that he could plainly see, and he knew that she was struggling under their weight. However, so like Mary would, she bore it as inconspicuously as possible, finally dropping her carry-on to the ground at her feet when it became obvious that the wait would be a long one.

"I'm so sorry." She kept apologizing. "I didn't know it would take this long. I should have told her my plane was landing later."

Finally, the carousel started moving, and she perked up to watch for her suitcase. Ten minutes had passed, and Marshall had almost given up hope, when she jumped a little and started toward a green duffel bag. She heaved it off the line, and it fell with a thud to the ground. He watched with a grin as she adjusted the backpack that had formerly been on her back to carry on her chest like a pregnant kangaroo, grabbed what looked like a military-issue duffel bag, and settled it on her shoulders, heaving it up with a quiet grunt. When she bent over to pick up her carry-on, the extra weight on her torso unsettled her, and she nearly fell forward onto her face, but for Marshall's quick action. He grasped her shoulders and righted her as she fixed him with a sheepish grin.

"I'm a little top heavy. Thanks." She bent at the knees to grab her bag, but Marshall was too quick for her.

"Give me this one." He demanded gently, easing the straps of the duffel off her shoulders. The weight of it shocked him. It had to be close to half her body weight.

"I can get it!" She protested, but he silenced her with a raised hand and a shake of the head.

"Now what will I tell Mary if she asked if I helped you with your bags?" This seemed to appeal to her sense of logic, so she acquiesced and picked up the carry-on, only to have that, too, slipped from her grasp. Marshall was puzzled. All of her bags were heavy.

"What do you have in these?" He asked her only half joking. "Bricks? Cinder blocks? Kitchen sink?"

"Books." She stated simply, as if he should have known. "And clothes." Katie adjusted the pack to its rightful place on her back, and stood still waiting for direction.

"I'm parked out this way." Marshall pointed with his free hand toward the exit and the two started on their way. 

"Thank you so much, by the way." Katie continued once they were in the relative quiet of the parking lot. "I know it's an inconvenience for you, but I really appreciate all your help."

This was so unlike a Shannon, that Marshall did a double take just to make sure he'd picked up the right girl. "It's not problem." He shrugged. It really wasn't. He didn't have any plans for the evening, and he got to help out a friend. A good friend. It was really no problem at all.

"It is." She insisted. "And I can't thank you enough for all your help. It's so generous of you to drive her everywhere while I'm here. It has to be out of your way."

Now Marshall was just confused. "Excuse me?"

"The car?" Katie tried to remind him, except he clearly had no idea to what he was referring. "Mary said you're picking her up for work and stuff for a while while I'm here so I can have her car."

"Oh." This was news. "Right."

"She didn't ask you?" He shook his head slowly in response. "Oh." Her mouth formed an "o" as she realized her faux pas. "She said she had talked to you. Or that she was going to talk to you." Katie tried to remember the exact words. "It's okay. I can take a bus or something." She squared her shoulders, and Marshall wondered, not for the first time, if she, Brandi, and Jinx were really related. No argument. No persuasion. No attempt to beg or plead him to chauffer her cousin around for the foreseeable future. Just acceptance and a new plan, and nothing else.

"No, no." Marshall lied. "I just forgot, that's all. How long are you staying?" Not that he minded a little extra Mary time, although she wasn't at her most cheerful early in the morning. He'd have to remember to bring coffee. And bagels.

Katie wasn't buying it. She could tell he had no idea what she was talking about. "Just until I find an apartment." She offered hesitantly.

"You're moving here?" Curiouser and curiouser, these things were.

"I just got accepted to UNM…" She trailed off, and Marshall got the idea that there was more to the story, but refrained from prying any further. If she wanted to share more, he reasoned, she would. Maybe he could get the skinny from Mary, anyway, although she would probably be loathe to divulge anything that she deemed personal. Mary was nothing if not trustworthy.

Screw being considerate. The ride was getting uncomfortably silent, and he dared to pry. "What are you studying?"

"Physics."

This had Marshall's interest. Smart and considerate. This girl was quiet different than he had expected, and he didn't miss the way her eyes lit up when she said it.

"Physics?"

"Unless I hate it and change my major to sociology or art history or something." Her reply had an air of levity, but something in her manner led him to believe that she more than doubted her ability to tackle the subject.

Marshall nodded approvingly as he placed her bags in the bed of his truck. "Bachelors?" He pried for details.

"Yeah." Katie nodded slowly.

"That's nice." He realized how foolish he must sound. Nice was rarely a good thing.

"Yup." She smiled, and threw him a bone. "I like their astronomy program." She explained. "And Mary said she can help me get residency so I can get the in-state tuition rate."

"You know," Marshall launched into a discussion of the VLA, not realizing that the young girl in his truck was more than an expert on the subject. "It's just about two hour from here." He finished up, feeling a little sorry he'd begun that particular line of conversation in the first place. Mary was always giving him crap about his verbal diarrhea, and here he was, going on like a crazy person about a telescope.

Rather than chastise him, Katie just smiled and bounced in her seat a little. "I know! I can't wait to see it. I'm hoping to get into a class that spends a few nights collecting data there, and at another observatory in New Mexico. It's so much better here than back east!" She gushed excitedly. "All the good telescopes are in the desert."

Marshall loved her enthusiasm, and he realized that he longed to see Mary this excited about something. Making a mental note to figure out what would make his partner half this happy, he focused his attention partially back to the road.

"Are you and Mary close?" He'd never heard mention of anyone named Katie, so he didn't imagine that they were. Then again, she was very concerned when Mary didn't appear herself to pick her up, and Mary was letting this girl stay with her, so…perhaps he was wrong.

"Are you kidding me?" Katie scoffed. "She practically raised me. I spent as much time at her house as I did mine. Maybe more."

Marshall was having trouble picturing a life where Jinx's house would be the preferable choice, but then again, he was discovering that there was more he didn't know about his partner than he would have ever dreamed.

"Did she?" Was the only reply he could muster.

"Yeah." Katie sobered and glanced out the window briefly in a fashion so very like Mary. "She was always there when I needed her." Her voice was quieter now, and Marshall could tell there was a story there. Probably more than one.

"And you just decided to come to Albuquerque to catch up and do research?" He was just fishing now, but he sensed there was more to the truth than she was telling him.

"Not really." Katie said softly. "Initially I was going to help with the wedding plans and stuff, you know. Do the whole "bridesmaid" thing. Now I'm just glad I can be here to make sure she's okay."

That was definitely not the response Marshall had expected. Make sure she's okay. Someone related to Mary actually had her best interest in mind. He immediately decided to like this long-lost cousin.

"And go to school." He prompted.

"Right." She nodded determinedly. "And go to school."

"Is she?" Katie queried, steering the conversation back in a more comfortable direction. "Okay, I mean."

"Mary's…Mary." Marshall didn't quite feel at ease discussing his partner with a veritable stranger, but it couldn't hurt to divulge a few things, right? "She's stoic. She's…"

"She's Mary." Katie finished for him with a nod, understanding his meaning.

"Right." He took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how she's really doing." He confessed, and the truth of it bit him in the flesh. "She doesn't like to talk about her personal life. She's…private."

"Yeah. She's a tough one."

"_You have no idea."_ Marshall thought to himself, and then wondered if he was the one who didn't know.

"Are you from Albuquerque originally?" Katie's soft voice broke into her contemplation.

"No." His mouth quirked up on one side as he shook his head and glanced at her briefly. "I grew up in north Texas."

"Don't mess with Texas." Katie nodded, jokingly using what had become a sort of slogan of his home state.

"You know that was originally an anti-litter campaign? "

Her bemused smile told him that she had not been aware. " How about you?" He reciprocated the gesture. "Are you from New Jersey?"

"Yeah." Her voice was quiet, a bit wistful. "A few miles from Mary. I'd get home from school and ride my bike to her house, or she and Brandi would come to mine once Brandi was old enough. People thought we were all sisters for a long time."

"You're older than Brandi?" This surprised him. She didn't look a day over twenty.

"By quite a few years, but I'm going to take that as a complement, thank you." Her voice was devoid of any malice or irritation. "I'm three years younger than Mary." She offered up, watching while Marshall did the calculation quietly.

Deciding that this line of questioning was rapidly edging toward dangerous territory, Marshall steered the conversation in a safer direction. "You must have some interesting stories, then." He imagined that Mary had been a…spirited…child.

"Are you kidding me?" Katie laughed. "Did she ever tell you about the time she set the house on fire?"

"What?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His Mary? A pyro?

"Yeah. She must have been, oh, I don't know, twelve or something." She smiled at the memory of her favorite cousin. "Anyway, Jinx was being, you know Jinx."

"Drunk." He interjected, acutely aware of his partner's mothers affinity for the bottle.

"Right. Anyway, Mary had just cleaned up the house, and she comes home from school and finds the place is a mess. Her mom was having some sort of party or something, so she has us gather up all the bottles after everyone either passed out or left, and then she pours them out, all over the front yard, and lit a match. I don't think she knew quite what would happen, but it was fall, and it hadn't rained in weeks, so the yard…whoosh!" Marshall could only imagine. "So the entire front yard is on fire, and Brandi's freaking out, so she runs inside, but she didn't close the door, and you know flames and wind. So the living room catches on fire where someone had spilled booze on the floor, and Mary's running around trying to find the garden hose, but of course there isn't one. Finally one of the neighbors comes running over with a fire extinguisher and puts out the fire in the house, and the fire department put out the yard." She paused and let out a long breath. "We got in so much trouble. I honestly thought we were all going to go to juvy because of it, but Mary tried to convince the cops that one of the drunks had done it. They totally didn't buy it, but no one was going to lock up three little girls, and Brandi was still crying hysterically, Jinx was screaming bloody murder. They let us go, but boy, I thought for sure we were in for it."

Marshall laughed at the story of their childhood antics, but his heart clenched a little with this painful glimpse into Mary's troubled childhood.

"Why did you ask me if she was in the hospital earlier?" He was dying to know.

"She's a US Marshal, right? I'm aware of what the Marshals do, and I imagine that it occasionally involved the exchange of gunfire and chases. The criminal element rarely takes kindly to being eliminated from the streets."

He accepted her explanation in stunned silence. So Mary did have a relative that she liked. Hell, she had a relative that HE liked. Not that he didn't like Brandi, she was a sweet kid, but Katie was the kind of family that Mary actually needed. Katie didn't seem like she needed Mary to take care of her. She seemed interested in taking care of Mary. He hoped that she would be allowed to do just that. And perhaps Katie would be able to find whatever she needed here in Albuquerque, too. It was a good place to start over, after all.

_So, what's up Katie's sleeve? _


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read chapter one, and a special thanks to those that took the time to review. I hope that you will find this installment up to your standards and to your liking as well. Chapters may be spread out a bit. I'm studying for national board exams right now, and because I'm poor, I have no money for other, more expensive forms of diversion. Anyway. Thank you, reviewers! Here is chapter two (because I'm way too brain dead after a 16 hour marathon of advanced cardiac life support class to think up anything more inspired to call it)._

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Katie and Marshall settled into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the drive to Mary's house. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She had her head turned, facing out the passenger side window most of the time. He considered giving her his patented tour guide special, minus the whole "keep your hands inside the windows at all times" bit, but she appeared preoccupied, and he didn't want to bother her. Marshall discovered that he had grown unaccustomed to the person in the passenger seat being still and quiet. Mary was never still. Even when she was dropping from exhaustion she radiated energy. Katie preferred quiet and still, though, and he was willing to oblige.

"Here we are." He spoke softly as he pulled into the driveway and moved his truck into park.

"Where?"

"Mary's house." He nodded, watching as she took it in.

"Wow." She smiled, eyes wide. "Mary has a nice house."

He said nothing, but remembered the state it had been in a few months prior after the feds were done with their witch hunt.

"You ready?" She hadn't moved yet, not even to unbuckle her seat belt.

"Oh, right." Katie scrambled out of the cab of the truck, dropping gracefully to her feet from the height of the cab of the truck. She stood on tiptoe to grab her bags from the bed of the truck, but Marshall had beaten her to the punch, easily lifting them up.

"Here." He handed her his keys, indicating a particular one. "This one's hers. Go on in." Her eyes met his hesitantly, and Marshall could tell she was unsure of entering her cousin's house alone for the first time. "Can you get door for me?" That might make it better.

"Sure." She hurried to the front door, key turning in the lock with a metallic scratch. "Go ahead." She motioned him through the door, holding it open for him as he carried her bags. Katie followed Marshall slowly, eyes wide with awe as she gradually took in her surroundings. Mary had certainly done okay for herself.

"I'm not sure which room will be yours." Marshall interrupted her thoughts apologetically. "I guess you could just dump your stuff and move it later if you need." He shrugged, wishing he had taken the time to finalize the details of the pickup and drop off.

Katie couldn't have cared less about which room she'd be staying in. Rather than take the grand tour, she made a beeline for the kitchen and wrenched open the refrigerator door. Marshall chuckled at the exasperated frown she made as she swung back to face him.

"Mary has no food." Her head shook as she shut the fridge and started rummaging through cabinets. "I know she's not a gourmet chef, but can't she at least make pasta?" Marshall didn't want to comment. He'd eaten Mary's pasta. Or tried to. The truth was that no, she could not.

"Are you hungry?" Why hadn't he realized it earlier? She was probably famished after the long day of traveling. Airplane food was not food in the strictest sense of the word. He had suspicions that it wouldn't even sustain life if it was the only comestible on the face of the earth.

"Not really." Came a muffled reply from inside the pantry. "Since I'm here first, I was just going to make dinner." There was a pause, then Katie reappeared holding a can of green beans and a bag of chips. "Seriously?" She cocked her head to the side just so, and Marshall felt his heart warm. She was like a tiny, brunette version of Mary. His very southern mother would have called her a hundred pounds of piss and vinegar, and Marshall made a mental note to call his mother tonight at some point.

"She calls this grocery shopping?" The look in her eyes was something akin to accusatory, and he found himself hoping that he was not about to find himself on the receiving end of a Mary Shannon-style explosion.

"Mary's not what you would call "domestic."" Marshall placated, inwardly laughing at her expression. "How about we run to a grocery store? Mary'll probably be another hour or so." Inprocessing was a long, tedious business. He tried not to think about it. Mary hated inprocessiong, and he felt more than a little guilty about leaving her there to do it alone. Stan was probably around the office somewhere, so that make things a little better. Still...

"I don't want to take up that much of your time." She shook her head and tossed the chips back into the pantry. "I think I saw some mashed potato mix somewhere. If she has any seasonings, maybe I can do something with that. Does she have ground beef?" Now she was nosing around the freezer.

"You'd be more likely to find a seven course dinner in there." Marshall called after her. "Try the bottom shelf. Sometimes she has a pizza or one of those microwave dinners in there." The explosion he had anticipated never came, and Katie's reply to his last comment quelled the fear that had been nagging in the back of him mind. Katie seemed to have a much tighter rein on her outbursts, and none of this was apparently directed toward him. What was it about Mary that made him not mind her outbursts? He didn't have time to contemplate the intricacies of their relationship right now. There was a hungry woman standing in front of him, and his Texan sense of chivalry wasn't about to just up and leave her there to starve.

"I am NOT feeding Mary TV dinners!" Her voice was so indignant it would have made him laugh, save for the serious expression on her face.

This was not quite where he thought the conversation would be going. Feed MARY TV dinners. Okay. Marshall could work with that. "Calm down." He tried to not laugh out loud. "There's a market a few blocks away. Let's go."

"I can't." Katie protested. "I've taken up enough of your time already. Oh, I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed suddenly, as she started shoving him toward the front door. "I didn't mean to keep you from your plans! I'm sorry. I'm fine here."

Marshall sidestepped her tiny hands as she made a final push. "Woah! Hang on a minute. I don't have any plans. Let me take you to the store." He held both of his hands up, palms out in mock surrender.

"If you take me to the store, you have to agree to stay for dinner." Katie drove a hard bargain…sort of.

"I might." Then again, he needed to clear up a few things first. "Do you cook better than Mary?" He was many things, but suicidal wasn't one of them. Not tonight.

"Much." She assured him seriously. "I'm no Julia Child, but then, who is?"

Marshall opened his mouth to tell her, but she silenced him. "I don't wanna know, okay? It's just a saying." Her eyes were dancing, and Marshall got the feeling that Mary had divulged many of the pertinent details about him to her cousin. Or maybe they really were just THAT similar. His gut told him it was the latter

"After you." He had a feeling that he was going to enjoy having Mary's little cousin around for a while.

"Jesus, what's that smell?" Mary announced her presence characteristically, shooting a fake angry face toward her partner.

"It's called "food," Mare. Maybe you're not accustomed to it being inside your actual dwelling, but in some cultures it's customary to have forms of nutrition and sustenance available at particular times of day to be consumed with family or friends. It's called a meal, and it's supposed to consist of something other than Lays."

"Those were Baked Lays." She defended her comestible choices , as if the baked aspect made them a wiser choice, with an elbow to his ribs as she sniffed the pot he was stirring. "And you better not've eaten them all."

"Your chips are safe with me." He assured her, hand stilling as she bent down to smell.

"Where's Katie?" She glanced around, puzzled.

"Shower." He knew he needn't explain. Mary always showered first thing after landing. She swore that airplane stench stuck to her.

"How'd she sucker you into…" Her jab was cut short by a very recognizable high-pitched squeal.

"Mary!" Katie bounced into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around her stunned cousin.

Marshall nearly fainted as he watched his normally personal-contact-o-phobic partner drop her mandatory three feet of personal space in all directions bubble and reciprocate to hug her cousin warmly.

"Lil' Squirt!" Mary rocked left and right, still embracing her favorite relative. "How was your flight? And you put Marshall to work. I knew I loved you best for a reason."

"He's actually quite handy in the kitchen." Katie stated matter of factly.

"Let me look at you." Mary took a step back and held Katie at arm's length, one hand on each shoulder. "Are you ever going to age?" Katie looked nearly exactly as she had at fifteen.

"I have a grey hair, look." She some of her hair back and pointed to a place on her scalp. "I think there's some in there."

Mary leaned forward and mussed Katie's hair. "Nope." She groaned in fake annoyance as she first pushed away, then hugged her again. "You're still twelve and bugging me to teach you how to drive."

"I thought you were three years older?" Marshall couldn't stop the words before they were out of his mouth. His brain just did the math so fast, and the rest of the conclusions followed naturally. He couldn't be expected to contain ALL his thoughts now. Right? "How…?"

"She didn't say I was legal to drive." Mary corrected with a mischievous look on her face.

"Not that that ever stopped you." Katie reminded her, and Marshall envied the honest, pure laugh that her comment elicited from Mary. She rarely laughed with complete abandon. He'd witness it only a select few times, and most of those instances had been instigated by him. Mary had a beautiful laugh. It sounded like what he had always imagined the color yellow would sound like. Not mustard yellow or sandy yellow. Bright, summery, lemon yellow. Happy. Sweet and tart at the same time.

"Stop." Mary admonished. "You're gonna give Marshall the wrong idea about me."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." He grinned cheekily. "She already told me about your pyromaniac tendencies. Such a misspent youth." He tsked her.

"That was an accident." She protested, shooting Katie a glare that would have dissolved a lesser human being. Katie, already immune to such a countenance responded only by shrugging and checking the oven.

"Traitor." She hissed at Katie jokingly.

"Oh, come one." Katie huffed right back without missing a beat. "Give the man some credit. He's already figured out that you're cracked. And a rebel."

"I've always preferred maverick." Mary corrected as she narrowed her eyes and made a face at first Katie, then Marshall in an attempt to quell any retort that he might feel compelled to add. Marshall had the grace to turn his head to hide the grin as he witnessed their banter.

"That's just because you've always had a thing for Tom Cruise in Top Gun." Katie shouldered her cousin and scooted her out of the way. "Not that I blame you. I mean, come on. Dress whites? Gold wings?" She giggled as Marshall sputtered and choked back the pressure that was building in his chest. These two were something individually, but together? He'd never seen Mary like this before.

"You had a thing for Pierce Brosnan!" Marshall heard Mary incriminate her younger cousin. " All I heard for months was "let's go see James Bond!"" Mary accused.

"So did you!" Katie retorted as she took the casserole out of the oven. "And you're not one to talk, you know. Remember your Hootie and the Blowfish phase?"

"Kenny G!" Mary volleyed back indignantly.

"New Kids on the Block!" Katie said with finality, hands on her hips. "When they were kids!"

Marshall gave up all pretense of decorum and burst out laughing at Katie's last retort. The daggers in Mary's eyes could have killed him, but the corners of her mouth tilted upward just a hair, and he knew she wasn't actually angry.

"New Kids on the Block, Mare?" He was loving the newer, softer, dorkier side of Mary. "I didn't know you had such refined musical tastes as a teen."

"She had the sweat shirt and the Trapper Keeper and everything." Katie assured him.

"Did you…"

"Stuff it." She warned, and he almost did.

"Were you a Vanilla Ice fan, too?" He pushed, earning him a snicker and a nod from Katie. "Oh, my God, you were."

"Trekkie." She hissed at Katie when Marshall's back was turned.

"Live long, and prosper, Mary." Katie shot back.

"Yeah, well be poor, die young."

"Ladies, am I going to have to separate you two?" He turned and found them both doubled over in laughter, arms wrapped around one another. This was the kind of emotional support Mary needed right now, he thought to himself. Hell, this was the kind of person Mary just plain needed in her life period. Someone who just loves her. Katie adored Mary, that much was obvious, and it appeared as though the feeling was very, very mutual.

"No, I promise." Katie was laughing so hard she could barely choke out the words. "We'll be good."

Mary was amazed at how the mere presence of her cousin could reduce her to no more than an awkward teenager again. It was good to have her around.

Katie kept her promise to Marshall, he was more than willing to admit. The girl could cook. It was obviously a quick meal, but it was edible, and resembled food. This was more than he could say for the Mary's last attempt to feed him. He could still taste the odd combination of charred and undercooked hamburger, and the Chinese food they'd ordered in had done little to cleanse his palate of the sensation. Even today, his stomach turned a little at the thought of burgers – not quite enough to actually prevent him from eating them, but a little. He at least thought twice about ordering one now.

When dinner was over, Katie scurried into the kitchen to start washing up when Mary hip checked her away from the sink.

"What are you doing?" She asked incredulously.

"Washing the dishes." Katie deadpanned.

"Why?"

"'Cause they don't have arms and opposable thumbs to do it themselves."

"No, why are YOU doing the dishes?" Mary clarified.

"That was the deal, remember?" Katie reminded her, dishtowel paused mid-plate. "You let me stay here until I find a place rent-free, and I cook and clean for you."

"You're not my maid, Jesus!" Mary was unaccustomed to people waiting on her. Attending to her needs.

"I'm also not a freeloader." Katie resumed her cleaning, but turned and looked over her shoulder. "Besides, I think we'll both live longer if I do the cooking. I've eaten your food."

Marshall's eyes grew as large as saucers when he heard the latest volley, but Mary seemed to see the wisdom in it.

"Fine. You can cook. But don't clean. Just…don't."

"I will, and you can't stop me."

"Impossible girl!" She wasn't really mad. It was nice to have someone around that didn't need looking after.

"Obstinate woman!" Katie shouted as Mary followed Marshall into the living room.

"I like her!" Marshall whispered to Mary once he was sure they were out of earshot. She knew how to handle Mary, and was the only person he'd ever seen not back down to her. Not even once.

"Of course you do." Mary muttered. "You two were hatched out of the same pod."

"Pods don't technically hatch, per se." He knew the reaction this would garner, and he did it for effect this time. Well, he did it for effect a lot. Exasperating Mary had become something of a pastime to Marshall. "They split and open, and typically contains things like legumes or seeds. Eggs, on the other hand, have animals of some sort living inside of them which pecks or pokes its way out. The chrysalis of a butterfly or moth, while similar to an egg, does not open by hatching, even though the organism that built it was hatched from an egg. The process is called "emergence," and when it is completed the caterpillar has metamorphosed into a butterfly." He took a moment to reflect on the similarities of butterflies and his blonde friend. Both came into the world small and relatively helpless. A series of traumas and heartaches followed, but when they got to the other side, they emerged beautiful and victorious. Mary.

"Marshall?"

"Yeah?" He shook himself out of his reverie. Maybe Mary was right. He did think too much.

"Shut up." She shook her head at him, and he just smiled. Butterflies have some defenses, too.

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_I hope that this clears thing up. There is no Marshall/Katie angle here. M/M all the way._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I have readers! A big hug and thanks to everyone who read (and even bigger hugs to the kind reviewers). This story might not follow canon. I'm in school. I spend 20 hours a day studying, so I have probably only seen three episodes this season. That being said, pretend it's AU, and you'll be fine. I can't find anywhere what state Marshall is actually from, so I decided he's a Texan. It's be best state in the union for a reason (don't hate). Anyway. Thanks to the reviewers and readers. Here's chapter three. _

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Mary was always happy to see the weekend finally roll around, and this weekend was shaping up to be an especially good one. There were no transfers planned, and all of her witnesses were behaving surprisingly well. The week had been quiet, overall, and she'd even managed to get caught up on all her paperwork. That was something she usually procrastinated doing. Boring, busywork bothered her. The tedious minutia grated on her nerves in contrast to her partner, who thrived on details. Mary was more of an in your face kind of gal. She preferred to kick ass and take names later. Marshall, she reflected, was more cautious, calculating. He preferred to weigh the risks and benefits, all possible outcomes of any given decision or maneuver before acting. Mary just plain preferred acting. She'd deal with the consequences later. Paperwork, though, could not be ignored forever, and since she'd run out of excuses to put if off earlier in the week, by the time that Friday came around she found herself begrudgingly muddling through piles of papers.

Her activities for the day did not go unnoticed by her partner, who had made a sort of hobby out of observing her. With each packet of papers completed, her frustration grew louder and more evident. Marshall kept his head down and watched as she slammed her palm down on the completed pile with a huff and a barely concealed string of obscenities.

"Problems, Mare?" He was smiling. She hated it when she upset and he smiled that annoying "I told you so" grin of his.

"Don't start with me." She warned him, raising her hand with index finger extended and shaking it at him. "I'm not in the mood."

"_When ARE you in the mood?"_ He questioned silently. "Can I get you anything?" He asked sweetly, rather than voice his thoughts and risk being manually emasculated on the spot. She could do it, too. He had no doubt.

"Yeah." She rubbed her temples wearily. "A secretary."

"They're calling themselves "administrative assistants" now, remember?" He reminded her of the PC training they'd had to sit through a few months back.

She grunted disdainfully at that and threw her pen across the room in anger.

"Mary, would you like me to help you fill out some of the forms?" He knew she'd never ask, and may not even accept the offer, but he wouldn't be Marshall if he didn't try.

"No." She was predictable sometimes. "They're my witnesses. I'll do it." She grumbled.

He watched her outright for a few moments before turning his attentions back to his own work, which wasn't really work at all. He'd been researching apartments for Katie. She'd mentioned something over dinner one evening that she'd been apartment hunting, but she wasn't sure of some of the neighborhoods. Mary had said something about looking it up, but Marshall was betting that she hadn't had the time. His research had turned up a few promising places, but he was secretly hoping that she'd stay with Mary a while longer. He worried less about Mary now that she had someone to look after her. He knew she'd be fed well, there was someone around to listen to her, just be with her. Be kind to her. Plus, Katie had the pleasant habit of cooking rather large quantities of food and inviting Marshall to dine with them. He found he rather enjoyed the dinners. Mary visibly relaxed around her younger cousin, opening up and shedding some of the many layered defenses she carried around with her. She was still a mystery to him sometimes, but he felt like he was finally getting to know the real Mary Shannon. Plus, Katie was a hoot by herself. He genuinely enjoyed her company as well, and the lively conversations around the dinner table and after reminded him of time spent with his own family. Living alone, he sometimes yearned for that togetherness. A bachelor lifestyle did not afford one many opportunities to engage in such activities often, and he was pleasantly surprised at the degree to which he found himself anticipating these occasions. He felt less alone, and sometimes, even he needed a little companionship. He wasn't a monk, after all. Yet. Although it had been a while.

"Katie invited you to dinner tonight."

Mary's voice broke through his thoughts, and for a moment he was worried that he'd been thinking out loud. He'd noticed that he was developing Mary's habit of not censoring his thoughts. It had gotten him in trouble when he was a child, and he prayed that the annoying tic wasn't creeping into his life again.

"What?"

"Katie." Mary repeated. "She's making dinner tonight. She invited you." Mary paused. "Actually she just said she was cooking, and insinuated that there'd be enough if you wanted to stay." Katie was far too much of a lady to actually invite Mary's partner over herself. She was very careful to leave the act of extending the invitation to Mary.

"Okay." He didn't miss Mary's frown at his response.

"So?" She shook her head and shot him the look he knew too well.

"So, what?"

"So are you staying for dinner?" Mary spat at him. If only Katie had actually asked him to come. She was much more at ease relaying invitations than extending them herself. Even to Marshall. She had no similar reservations regarding inviting herself to Marshall's house, though, and he had learned when to expect her, or at least how to hide his surprise when she showed up on his doorstop unannounced. He could read the signs now. The subtle shift in her attitude toward going home at the end of the day. The extended overtime without too much protest. If Mary showed too much interest in asking what his plans were for the evening, he knew to put an extra pot of coffee on and cook something real for dinner, or at the very least, pick up two orders of kung pao.

"Do you want me to?" He challenged.

"Marshall, just yes or no, okay." She stood suddenly, her desk chair rolling quickly away from her as it hit the back of her knees, in no mood for his games.

"It's a simple question." He knew he was playing with fire now. "Do you want me to come?"

She was agitated and working her way towards angry now. He had pushed too far.

"I don't want to intrude on all your time with your cousin." He extended an olive branch, praying she'd see reason, even if it wasn't truth. He HAD been spending an inordinate amount of time at Mary's house of late. He didn't mind, but he was hoping that she did not, either.

"You're always welcome, Doofus." He heard her mutter as she stalked to the coffee machine. The growl she emitted upon discovering the pot was empty was at a higher decibel level, and Marshall was grateful for her distraction. It kept her from noticing the goofy grin he knew she'd give him endless crap for if she'd seen. He was always welcome. In her home. It was a place to start. Right?

"Oh, good." Katie glanced up and greeted her cousin as she walked in the kitchen. "You brought Marshall." She stooped and grabbed a pan from the oven. "I made a ton of food tonight." Her voice was strained with the weight of the baking dish and its contents.

"Hey, Katie." Marshall strolled leisurely into the kitchen, following his nose and the sound of pleasant conversation. "What'd ya make tonight?"

"Lasagne." She pointed to the casserole cooling on the trivet.

"Do I smell bread?"

"Resting over there." She nodded to the counter on her left as she tossed a salad, then moved to stir something on the stove.

"Can I do something?" He didn't mind helping, and felt a little guilty about eating at Mary's house all the time now. He'd been here nearly daily for the past two weeks, and while he'd never been better fed, he felt he should contribute something.

"Over there." She motioned to a bowl of suspicious brown substance. "Can you put that in the pan beside it?" He followed her gaze and saw a pan with a suspiciously homemade looking pie crust in it, already baked to near perfection.

Mary watched the exchange quietly from her perch beside the doorway. Marshall and Katie got along well. She as glad the two most important people to her were friends, but something about it gnawed at her insides.

"Mary, could you finish setting the table for me?" Katie broke into her thoughts. "I started, but then I got distracted."

Mary jumped at the chance to leave the kitchen. How close were they, she wondered. Was Katie interested in Marshall? More importantly, was he interested in her? She liked being the only woman in Marshall's life, and the thought of her little cousin worming her way into his world distressed Mary more than she would like to admit.

"This is crazy." She muttered to herself as she set out three place settings. Katie had always been the nurturing one. She could pick out a lonely soul in a crowd, and would invariably set about ensuring that individual was properly socialized. Maybe she thought Marshall was lonely. Maybe she was just being nice. Maybe…crap.

"Is this homemade?" Marshall was asking when Mary reentered the kitchen. He was cutting the bread into slices and arranging it on a cookie sheet, then smearing the slices with something.

"It's not hard." Katie deflected. "Just mixing and waiting, really."

He wanted to ask her where she learned to cook, but it didn't seem appropriate.

She'd really gone all out tonight, and Mary had a suspicion that it was for a reason. She had yet to deduce what the cause was, but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Katie was a talented cook, and Mary could not for the life of her remember there ever being homemade bread or pie in her house. Jinx cooked sometimes, but that as usually something from a box, and Brandi had inherited her mother's domesticity. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet through dinner, so when Katie excused herself to clean up the kitchen, she took the opportunity to interrogate Marshall.

"So, what do you think of her?" Sometimes, Mary had all of the finesse of a bull.

"Katie?" Marshall immediately saw through the façade, and understood what he was truly being asked. "She's a sweet kid." Mary visibly relaxed at his response. The use of the term "kid," while affectionate, did not denote a romantic interest of any kind on his part. And this was Marshall. She could read him if he was lying or trying to conceal something from her. His face was plain and open, and she knew she had nothing to worry about on his end.

"Hell of a cook." He continued.

"Hmm?" Mary looked up, surprised. "Oh. Yeah."

"How'd she learn to cook?" He'd been aching to ask for two weeks now, and that was as long as Marshall could go without knowing anything.

"TV." Mary answered honestly.

"TV?"

"PBS had cooking shows." Mary shrugged. "I think it was self preservation on her part. She's the only one in the whole family that can cook." Marshall understood her full meaning, and took correctly to mean that Katie was a singularity in her entire extended family when it came to culinary prowess.

"She was so cute." Mary was continued, unbidden, and uncharacteristically uninhibited about sharing something from her childhood. "She'd cook for us all the time, trying out one recipe or another. Some of her meals were more successful than others." She wrinkled her nose at the memory of Katie's failed first attempt at using real garlic. "She didn't know the difference in a clove and a bulb," she continued, furthering Marshall's surprise. "I don't know what the recipe called for, but she threw in the whole thing."

He found himself laughing at the though.

"It was so bad. Brandi tried to eat it, but no one could swallow. It was so bad. We all smelled like garlic for days." Marshall watched as Mary's face softened and smiled wistfully at the memory. "I think the lady that lived next door to her may have taught her some stuff. Baking, and such, you know."

Silence descended on the pair for a moment, and both sat, absorbed; one in thoughts of the past, the other more immediate. Katie interrupted their moment of comfortable silence as she whirled in to clean up the last of the dishes from the table and give it a good wiping. Marshall still felt awkward about not helping her clean up. He'd tried to every day for a week, but she shooed him out of the kitchen every day, citing that it was her rent, and if he helped, then she'd have to take on additional duties to make up for it.

"Do you guys mind if I use the table for homework?" Katie poked her head into the dining area, arms laden with books and papers from school. She'd started classes earlier this week, and the summer session was proving to be challenging.

Marshall followed Mary out into the living room and settled beside her on the sofa, their routine now familiar after repeating a similar pattern for the better part of two weeks now. The partners watched television in companionable silence, breaking the stillness in the living room only to mock the producers of the standard television show for their predictability. Marshall saw Mary yawn, and was about to stand up and announce that it was time for him to go when he heard a frustrated growl from the dining area. Another sound followed, then the sound of papers shuffling, and a book being set down heavily on the table.

"Everything okay?" He asked quietly as he dodged a flying pencil, startling Katie who hadn't heard him enter. "Sorry." He murmured when she jumped at the sound of his voice. Apparently the tendency to launch writing implements as projectiles when aggrevated was yet another trait that she shared with his partner. Years of working with Mary had honed his reflexes, so he was ready should an eraser follow the pencil's path.

"It's fine." She sighed, although he could tell things obviously weren't fine at all.

"What are you studying?" He retrieved the offending pencil and stood beside her and looked from her textbook to her paper that she'd been working on before he interrupted her.

"Stats." Katie motioned angrily to the last problem on her page. "I have no idea how to do these. I can't get the answer right." She hated statistics. It wasn't even science, she raged inside. Not math. Not science. Not even soft science. Now she knew she'd made the right decision in putting this class off for this long.

Marshall pointed to the textbook and caught her eye. "May I?" He asked permission before taking it.

"Go ahead." She pushed the book toward him as he took a seat at the table and engrossed himself in a subject that he hadn't thought about since his days as an undergrad. Katie stood and stretched, peering into her mug to check for fluids.

"I'm going to make some tea, would you like anything?"

"Tea's fine." He nodded, glancing up momentarily. "If you're making it anyway."

Katie put the water on to boil, then rejoined the tall man in the living room who was pouring over her text book, frantically scribbling something on her dry erase board.

"What's going on?" Mary was amused. Katie looked ready to scream or throw things, a feeling Mary understood quite well, and Marshall was writing something in his oddly neat handwriting. She squinted at his work and groaned. "Seriously, Marshall, you actually remember that stuff?" He really was a power nerd.

"Not quite, but I've almost got it." His voice sounded distracted as he used his index finger to erase his last calculation and replace it with another value.

"There." He sat down the board and smiled at Katie encouragingly. "I can help you with this."

"You can?" Katie's voice was one of disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Here." He pointed to where she'd gotten mixed up in the calculation. "You should have used the mean squared weighted deviation, not the standard deviation from the mean." Katie stared at him in awe, and Mary sat down with an annoyed huff. She watched while her cousin erased part of her work, and started over with the new value, gaining a new respect for her partner and friend as the smile on her cousin's face grew.

Katie checked her new answer with the value in the back of the book and laughed out loud. "I've been working on that problem for an hour now! How'd you do that?"

Mary fielded that one before Marshall had a chance to respond. "He sits at home by himself editing Wikipedia just in case someone ever has an urgent statistics situation." She ribbed him, but she was secretly impressed and a little jealous of her partner's intellectual abilities.

"Thank you!" Katie gushed gratefully.

"It's no problem." He deflected. "You got it from here?"

"Yeah, thanks." Her head was already back in her books, and Marshall knew from experience that she wouldn't surface again until she was finished with her assignment.

"I'm gonna take off." He made a show of looking at his watch for Mary's benefit. "I'll be by early tomorrow. Are you coming with us?" He was, of course, referring to his plans to take Katie to the farmer's market early Saturday morning.

"Get up early on my day off, get dressed up, and spend the morning picking out celery? No thanks." She was more than willing to sit this one out.

"Alright." He slipped his feet into his boots and pulled them on with a heave. "I'll see you later tomorrow, then." He suddenly felt awkward. Mary was standing close to him, probably unaware of her own proximity, but he wasn't. He was very aware of her presence, and the look on her face was one he couldn't discern. He could feel every hair standing on end with the electricity of desire. Rather than give in, though, he consoled himself with a friendly pat on the shoulder as he tossed his goodbye's over his shoulder. He steeled himself against looking back to see if she was still standing in the doorway until his truck was out of the driveway and in drive again. He could see her form, silhouetted in the light of her house watching him drive away. Marshall felt a pang of regret as he realized that it was probably a familiar role for her.

"I'll be back tomorrow." He knew it was foolish. He wasn't leaving her. He wasn't walking out on her. He was going home. Still, he saw the emptiness in her eyes now. The place that she had gamely tried to let Raph fill was once again hollow in his absence, and even Katie's bubbly personality could do nothing to fill the void. "I'll be back tomorrow." He repeated to himself over again as he drove the familiar roads back to his home. "I'll be back tomorrow."

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_More as the studies permit. _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I own nothing but Katie and the typos. Not mine. Also, I'm not getting paid by Apple to advertise for them. Or getting paid by anyone else. And I apologize if the USMC doesn't have an EOD crew. The Navy does, so I figured the Marines do, too. This one's longer and a little darker. It surprises me that some of you still don't trust me to make this an MM Shipper. Where's the trust, guys? :-) I think you'll find this to your pleasing, and should allay all your fears on the issue._

_Thanks to anyone who read, reviewed, etc. I love review, I just hate asking for them. That said, feel free to do so liberally (but nicely, please. Criticism is one thing, but let's keep thing constructive, shall we?). XOXO!_

_-A very tired, stressed out med student._

* * *

Marshall tossed and turned all night. Something wasn't right, and he just couldn't put his finger on it. Mary had been off all evening. There had been times in their partnership, and indeed their friendship, when he prayed to high heavens that she would just be quiet once and a while. But tonight, he discovered that he found her silence right down unnerving. It just wasn't like her to be so quiet. She had hung back while he helped Katie put the finishing touches on dinner, barely said a word while they ate, and then there was her question. _"So, what do you think of her?"_ Her words batted around inside his brain like a ping pong ball. From anyone else, that would have been an invitation to give his opinion. From one of his brothers it would have meant something akin to _"tell me how jealous you are of me because my girlfriend is a swimsuit model."_ From a college friend it would have meant _"are you willing to distract her long enough for me to have a go at her friend?"_ Stan would have really meant, _"what problems do you foresee with this witness?"_ He knew instinctively that the underlying question beneath Mary's query was nothing like any of those. She was off balance. Off kilter. It threw him off balance, too. He'd never realized it before, but Mary, with all of her complication and confusion, steadied him. Grounded him.

"_So, what do you think of her?"_ Mary was jealous. She was jealous that he had made friends with her cousin. She was jealous of her cousin. She was jealous. He tried to think of an alternative to this conclusion. It didn't make sense, and Marshall demanded that the things in his life make sense, although ever since that fateful day when he'd first met Mary Shannon he had learned to ease up on the rules a little. To his credit, he had, begrudgingly at first, learned to allow room for uncertainty. Disorder. Disarray. Mary was uncertain. Mary was a variable. Mary couldn't be contained, controlled, or defined. At first it had irritated him, and later he had envied her for it. Time passed and he'd learned more about her. Snippets at first, as if she was testing him with the little bits, the superficial things before she'd dare trust him enough to tell him anything of substance. He hadn't let her down yet, save for that whole job interview thing. And the kidnapping. And the shooting. Wow. He was turning out to be a really crappy partner, he realized drily. It's a wonder that Mary hadn't requested a transfer, but she'd never let on that she blamed for any of it - at least the things that had happened to her.

Groaning in frustration, Marshall balled up his pillow under his head for the tenth time in as many minutes and rolled over again. Making his mind up to pump Katie for information tomorrow – as delicately as possible, of course – he finally drifted into a fitful sleep.

Marshall woke before his alarm went off, a skill honed to near perfection from years of owning the world's single most obnoxious alarm clock. Even his subconscious would rather get up ten minutes early than have to listen to that godforsaken contraption buzz, no matter how quickly Marshall's reflexes were at extending his arm to slap the "off" button. He remained in bed for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. When had this happened? When had become this pitiful person who pines for a woman that he can realistically never have? He'd beat the crap out of himself if he saw himself doing this. Marshall grinned at the irony of his last thought, an image of a younger, supposedly hipper Marshall pummeling present-day Marshall into the dirt for being a moron. All things considered, thought, he knew that Mary could do worse. She'd done worse. Often. Then she'd told him about it dismissively, never noticing the way his jaw set firmly or the narrow darkening of his eyes. He could be better. Better than them. Better than Raphael. Better than he was now. He'd learn how. He'd show her. He'd teach her how to see him. How to see herself.

Finally rousing himself from his stupor, Marshall trudged to the bathroom and turned the water to hot. Maybe he'd feel better after a shower. He liked to think in the shower, so there was the possibility that he could discover a previously unseen answer to his dilemma. Then again, there was always a chance that he'd just frustrate himself into a small rage and forget to rinse the conditioner out of his hair, too. There was precedent. It had happened before. On more than one occasion, and with increasing frequency of late. Mary had that effect on him. She made him forget things that used to be second nature to him. She made him forget to breathe. Briefly, he wondered as he rubbed shampoo over his scalp, what made Mary forget to breathe?

* * *

He arrived at the house a full fifteen minutes earlier than he'd told Katie he would, and hesitated before exiting his truck and walking up the short path to the front door. To his surprise, the door swung open to reveal Katie, dressed and ready to go it would seem except for the apron covering her good clothes.

"I'm sorry." She motioned for him to come inside. "I promise I'll be less than five minutes. Would you like some coffee? I've got some brewed already."

She rambled as she led him into the kitchen, already reaching for a mug and filling it up even though he hadn't had a chance to respond.

"I don't know how you take so, sugar's there." She pointed. "Milk's in the fridge."

He sniffed the air and focused on her activities. "How early did you get up?" She was icing cinnamon rolls that curiously looked like a cardboard tube had never played a part in their existence.

"Oh, I never sleep that much." She shrugged, not turning around. "And these are Mary's favorite."

He marveled at her ability to say it like it was nothing. Those are Mary's favorite, so OF COURSE she got up early to make them. Of course she'd set her alarm, and timed the ordeal perfectly so as to not intrude on anyone's time unnecessarily. Of course she had. She's Katie. She had music playing, he realized, and was singing softly along to it. Her voice was pretty. Crystal clear and sharp like glass. Maybe she'd had voice lessons at one time. The song wasn't one that he recognized, and he wasn't listening to the lyrics much anyway. He sipped his coffee and tried to concentrate. He'd already had a steaming cup of caffeine at home, but his head still felt fuzzy. Sluggish. No doubt due to his inability to sleep the previous night.

"Want one?" She was holding a plate with a tantalizingly sticky sweet cinnamon roll on it and offering it to him now.

"Are those pecans?" He had a sudden flash to his childhood summers spent visiting his Gran and picking pecans from the tree in her front yard. How did she do it? How did Katie always know exactly what everyone around her needed?

"Sure." She shrugged, like it was something ordinary; like she was something ordinary. Marshall found himself sending up a little prayer of thanks to whoever was responsible for sending this girl here to look after his partner. Finally. It's about time. The girl was a blessing. A godsend. A revelation.

Marshall sipped his coffee and thoughtfully chewed on his pastry while regarding the young woman in front of him. She moved easily about the kitchen. Mary's kitchen. Glancing around the room, he noticed the refinished walls, paint mere months old. Mary had shared her displeasure with him when she'd arrived home from the hospital to find her home had been fixed back up by her then fiancé. Furious didn't begin to describe her feelings on the subject. She had expressly detailed to him how the house had been a constant subject of contention between Raph and her. He obstinately refused to listen to her pleas to not fix it. She wanted the feds to be held accountable for what they did to her – had caused to be done to her. Marshall got it. He understood. It wasn't about the walls. The house was inconsequential compared to the symbolism having them held accountable for wounding her person. Bitter hot, seething anger sprang up, adrenaline suddenly coursing through his veins as he remembered the frantic search to find her, and then the look on her broken face when she saw for the newly renovated dwelling. There were actually times when he ached for her. Not romantically, although he did more of that than he'd care to admit, but rather physically ached for her; knowing how difficult the people in her life were to deal with, how inattentive they were to her needs. He wondered if he had ever caused her that kind of pain.

"Okay." Katie was shoving the cinnamon rolls into the refrigerator, already full of goods from her stay. "I'm ready."

"Give me a minute." Marshall took a quick bite, his treat had been forgotten in his contemplation. It was a bad habit that had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion as a child. His father had always thought that his son was too soft. How could he be expected to be a US Marshal if he was going to go around with his head in the clouds?

"I'm going to wash my hands." Katie was removing the apron and hanging it on the peg in the pantry. "And put the laundry in the dryer. Take your time."

"Is Mary up yet?" He ventured, trying to act nonchalantly when she returned. A part of him wanted to see her, yet still another piece of him wished that she could sleep all day and finally get some of the rest that he knew she so badly needed. Her family was exhausting to her, and their absence had to be good for her. It was so ironic, really. Mary had so few people in her life upon whom she could depend, and here he was, hoping that she'd get out of bed so HE could see her. Demanding.

"No. Not yet."

The look on her face was indiscernible, and he couldn't tell if he had failed to pull the wool over her eyes or not.

She held out her hand to take the now empty plate from him, then rinsed it in the sink. "I wouldn't expect her to be up for a few hours still." She sat the plate on the counter and checked her watch. "I'd say she's got a good two, two and half more hours before she joins the land of the living again."

He nodded silently, not at all surprised to discover that his partner preferred to rest in peace on the weekends, especially now with the more demanding members of her family absent from the home. It must feel like a luxury.

Katie flipped of the iPod she'd been listening to, and Marshall felt the silence envelope him uncomfortably. He had planned on prying Katie for information, but now the looming quiet and anticipation of the conversation he desperately wanted to have scared him.

"Bring it." He urged with a crooked grin that he hoped would mask his discomfort. "You can use my iTrip."

She laughed softly and shook her head. "I can't do that to you."

"No, really." He honestly didn't mind. She didn't have half bad taste in music, but he did wonder why she refused. "Bring it with you. I don't mind."

"It's girl music." Katie protested, hands on her hips just so, reminding him of Mary. His subconscious wondered if perhaps it was a stance she'd learned from years of observing her older cousin. "I can't subject you to that. Not in your OWN car." She stressed "own," as if possession of the vehicle somehow saved him from being forced to do something against his will.

"That would just be plain mean." Katie finished up, sitting her player on the entertainment system as she walked toward the door to slip on her sandals.

Marshall didn't argue, but he did surreptitiously swipe the mp3 player and slip it into his pocket before he left.

"Here." He handed her the iPod once they were on the road, only halfway convinced that she wouldn't try to hop from the moving truck and take it back home. "I liked the song."

Katie stared at him for a moment before reaching out a tentative hand and grasping her player. "Is everything okay?"

Damn her. She was too perceptive for his own good.

Marshall sighed and scrubbed his face with his now empty hand. "Yeah." It didn't even sound convincing to his ears. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

She sensed he didn't wish to discuss his insomnia any further, so she leaned forward to catch the plug-in for the device. Marshall was grateful that she didn't pry, and flipped the radio on, dialing it to the correct station more out of habit and muscle memory than anything else. There was only a short pause as Katie adjusted the volume, then changed the song or playlist – he couldn't tell which, and a soft, clear female voice filled the cab. He wasn't listening to the lyrics, his ears tuned to catch the surprisingly complicated and layered harmonies in the background.

"I like this." He told her honestly. "But I don't recognize the artist."

"PJ Harvey."

"Never heard of her." He shrugged.

"No one in the US has." Katie chuckled with mirth. "She's British. Had a couple of radio hits a few years back, but it's her stuff that no one has heard that's really good." She paused a moment, and Marshall waited for her to continue, but she never did.

"It's nice." He offered lamely, albeit genuinely. "Pretty."

"Yeah." Her voice was soft. Longing. "It's my favorite song."

He got the impression that she was sharing something deep and secret with him, and regretted not listening to the lyrics more closely. The song ended, and another began, and Marshall felt the familiar leaden guilt weight his already heavy psyche.

"Same person?" He inquired about the next song.

Katie just shook her head. "Winterpills."

She liked obscure music, he decided. Not the typical pop-radio, talent-devoid plasticized princesses that monopolized the airwaves these days. He made a promise to listen better, and turned his attention back, split between the road and the music. What could he learn about a person from their musical tastes, he wondered. What does a playlist say about a person? The rode in silence, both absorbing the soothing sounds; Katie soothed by their familiarity, and Marshall somewhat disturbed by his earlier breech in perception, but appreciating the way the melodies smoothed down his frayed, tired nerves. She interrupted the silence only to inform him of the band if he raised an eyebrow in question, and he was appreciative of her apparent understanding that he needed to think.

"Oh!" Katie's demeanor changed abruptly, anticipation radiating off her in waves. "Is that it?"

Her energy was infectious, and Marshall felt his own mood lift, the dark clouds parted in his own mind. "That's it." He smiled, realizing how much better it felt to smile than ruminate on that which could not be undone. "We're here."

"It's huge." Her eyes were wide open in awe and anticipation.

"Biggest in the area." He informed her, scanning the street for parking. "Do you want me to let you out here? It could be a hike from the parking space, if I ever find one."

"I'll wait." She was surveying the area. "A little exercise never killed anybody."

He glanced at her shoes, thankful for her good sense to wear flat, unfussy sandals, rather than the complicated, high heeled things so many women found appealing. She had so much Mary in her.

Katie rushed from stall to stall, gushing about mangos and egg plant. She admired the many varieties of squash, the myriad colors of potatoes. Purchased berries and tomatoes and fresh green beans. Marshall insisted on paying for some if, reasoning that if he was going to be continually invited to these fêtes that he should contribute. He had an inkling that Mary was not funding this adventure, but Katie herself. Generous spirit. He decided that if a girl could be summed up in five syllables, those would be the ones for her.

Hours later, Katie was finished shopping, or out of cash. He couldn't tell which, and she wasn't telling him.

"I can't wait." She was humming with energy. "I'm going to make curry tonight." She announced.

"You are?" Mary hated curry.

"For me." She clarified. "Mary won't touch the stuff."

That explained her insistence on purchasing certain of the foodstuffs herself. She refused to allow him to assist her in paying for a very select array of vegetables. The one's she knew only she would eat. He could pay for it if Mary was going to eat it, because that meant that he, too, would be enjoying the meal.

"You like curry?"

"Love it." She nodded. "All varieties. Thai. Indian. Japanese. Sri Lankan. I love it all."

"Vietnamese?"

"Definitely."

He was kind of hungry. "There's a good Vietnamese place not too far from here, if you're up for lunch." Mary was rarely up for trying any food that she labeled "ethnic," so getting to eat Vietnamese food with company would be a special treat.

"I can't." It wasn't that she wasn't tempted. She was just broke.

"My treat." He knew why she'd turned him down, but he didn't want to go back yet. He had yet to follow through on his plan to learn more about Mary. _"Chicken."_ He told himself.

"I can't." She repeated her earlier protest.

"Will you share the curry with me later?" He drove a bargain, but figured she'd see the logic of it.

She mulled it over slowly, and then finally responded. "Deal."

* * *

He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Now or never.

Katie took all of three minutes to choose her lunch, leaving Marshall feeling nervous. Now he had to come up with conversation.

"When does the rest of your stuff get here?" He assumed that her personal effects were being shipped across the country.

"What stuff?"

"Your stuff." What did she mean, what stuff? "Furniture, the rest of your clothes, books. Stuff."

"I brought it with me."

"All of it?"

"All of it." She shrugged. "I didn't need a lot of stuff in my last job. The gig included housing, so I didn't need furniture. I brought my clothes and computer with me. That's all my stuff."

Marshall couldn't imagine being able to pack his entire life into three bags. Let alone move across the country with it.

"Have you found an apartment?" That seemed like a safer topic.

"I've found a few, but Mary vetoed them all." She shrugged. "I'm not sure where else to look."

"Are you going to stay with Mary until you find one?"

"She said I can, but I need to get my own place. I can't keep mooching off of her. I'm getting on her nerves." The corners of her mouth were upturned to form a smile, but her eyes didn't match the expression.

"Mary loves you." He extended the only comfort he could think of.

"But I'm grating on her nerves." She didn't seem upset about it. "She needs her own space, I think."

"What does your mom think about you moving to the middle of the desert?" Was that a land mine topic, too?

"Not really." Her lips drew a thin line, and Marshall realized he'd stepped right on the mine again. This was not going well. "She told me not to come, but that's just because she figures my boyfriend will be mad."

"Is he?" This was the first Marshall had heard of the boyfriend.

"No." She laughed ironically. "It doesn't really affect him."

"How's that?"

"He's in Afghanistan."

Oh. Well. That explained it. "Army?" He finally had a topic from which to launch.

"Marine." Her voice was proud, and finally she smiled for real.

"What's he do?"

"Explosive ordinance disposal." Now she looked a little worried. "I try to not think too much about it."

"How long is his tour?"

"Five months so far." She took a sip of water. "He told me that he's expecting to have to stay for a few more, so me being in New Mexico really isn't the big deal my mom was so freaked out that it would be."

"Does he support you going back to school?"

"I've been in school the entire time he's known me."

"How long is that?" He wondered out loud.

"Two years, but I've been going part time for five."

That surprised him. "You were working, then?" She nodded. "What'd you do?"

"Nanny."

Marshall felt his eyes open wide without meaning to. "Really? Did you like it?"

"Parts of it, yeah." She glanced around the restaurant. "I had free rent and decent employers most of the time, so it wasn't so bad." Another pause while she carefully picked her words. "I felt badly for the kids, though, you know?"

"Parent's mostly absent?" He guessed this was the case with the very wealthy.

"Absent. Clueless. Self absorbed. The person who suffers the most isn't even old enough to understand what's going on." Her eyes had a faraway look in them as if she was seeing the faces of the children she'd help raise.

"I figured you'd been a cook or something." Good, Mann. Safe topic.

"Thought about cooking school." She agreed. "But I don't want that part of my life to be judged and graded."

Marshall could well understand the sentiment.

"Besides, Mary said that she didn't spend ten years checking my homework every night so I can learn to make the perfect soufflé. She's not a snob." She hurried to explain. "She just wanted me to be a scientist."

"Ten years?"

"I was only a year behind her in school." Katie explained. "I skipped a few years."

"I'll say." Her statement hit him then. "She checked all your homework?"

"Every night." She nodded. "Unless it was a class she hadn't taken."

"Were there many of those?"

"Yeah. I took all the science and math. Mary's a brain, but her mind isn't scientifically oriented." She laughed at the memory of taking chemistry with her older cousin. She'd been a sophomore, Mary a junior. Mary had hated the class with a passion, except for lab. She liked lab because she got to catch things on fire. "She could have taken the upper levels sciences, but Mary doesn't like science." That much he knew.

"She likes certainties, not variables." He'd never thought of it that way before. "She likes thing that don't need to be quantified. Intangibles. Things that aren't going to change. Mary isn't into the abstract. She needed...things that were concrete…in her life. Things she could count on. Science was never her thing. Too many variables."

"She wanted you to be a scientist?" He repeated, more in awe of his partner and her cousin than ever. "You were always into physics?"

"Oh, I took all the science and math classes I could find." She agreed

"You said Mary raised you." He began, hoping it wasn't too personal a topic.

"Yep." She took a sip of water, then traced the condensation down the length of the glass with her fingertip. "Maybe not raised, but you know, she was always there when I needed her." She paused and considered her words carefully. "We were always together. Inseparable. I'm glad we're talking again."

"You hadn't been?" This was news to him.

"Not for a few years." She spoke carefully, and he could see her hesitation. "We hadn't talked since a few months before she moved out here."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?" He pried gently.

"That's for Mary to tell, if she want to." Katie fiddled with her glass again, then nervously adjusted the cutlery on the napkin beside her. She wasn't sure how comfortable she was discussing her cousin with this man, even if they were friends or partners or whatever they were. She wanted to figure that out, too.

His respect for her ratcheted up a notch or two when he realized that she wasn't going to go telling him Mary's secrets. He just hoped that she'd help him understand the ones he already knew.

"We had a sort of falling out." Katie explained shortly.

He had surmised as much. "But things are better now."

It wasn't a question. "Yeah." Katie rewarded him with a smile that was only barely colored with sadness. "She called me out of the blue a few months ago and asked me to be a bridesmaid. She said she needed some sanity around her."

"Did you know him?" Katie asked as she dipped her spring roll carefully into the peanut sauce. "Raph, I mean?"

She didn't miss Marshall's facial expression. Disdain. And something else.

"I met him a few times." He ground out evenly.

"You hated him." It was neither a question nor an accusation. Merely a statement of fact. "Why?"

"He just…" Marshall hesitated. He needed to be careful about divulging too much. "He cheated on her at least once. I think she could do better." That wasn't even the half of it, but maybe Katie would buy it as an explanation.

"And?" She prompted. No such luck.

"And he didn't really try to get to know her." His brain was screaming at him to stop. This was a mistake. But his mouth kept right on talking. "He was a nice enough guy, I guess, just not for Mary. He didn't understand her. He wasn't good enough for her." He finished lamely.

Katie appeared to be thinking about his words as she carefully ate her lunch.

"She's hard to get to know." Marshall observed, knowing from experience how frustrating it could be to earn Mary's trust.

"She had to be." Katie shrugged.

"I guess." It was cheap, but Marshall decided to play dense for a bit and see if Katie would open up more. Offer insight.

"Do you know Jinx?" He noted her lack of the term "aunt" prefacing the question.

"Oh, I know Jinx."

"Not a fan?" The corner of her mouth turned up a bit.

"In general?" In general the woman annoyed the hell out of him. He wanted to shake her sometimes after Mary would finally reach a breaking point and explode her frustration all over him. How could a mother be so blind to her own child?

"Jinx isn't exactly maternal." Katie read his mind. "She's never really known what to do with Mary. She's never looked outside her own pain and tried to understand that life affected all of them, not just her."

Marshall knew what she was talking about. Had echoed her words in his own mind on numerous occasions. He was surprised to find such insight in the young woman across from him, though.

"Mary had to fend for herself." He stated.

Katie searched his face, and did not find what she'd expected. "It's more than that." She shook her head slowly. "She had to fend for them all."

"The loss of a parent affects a child deeply." Marshall was paraphrasing a psychology text book now.

"She didn't just lose a parent." Katie corrected.

"I suppose not." He wondered if she would expound on her previous comment, but other questions were more pressing on his mind.

"You know Brandi, I assume?" Katie waved her chopsticks at him, and waited for his affirmative nod before continuing. "Brandi was a baby when their dad left." Katie could clearly remember the day after he left. She'd walked to Mary's house and found her sitting on the front porch crying. That was the last time she saw her cousin cry.

"Brandi is just like Jinx in so many ways." She continued. "She truly is her mother's daughter. She's never known anything different. She was too little to remember their dad. And Jinx, she's so wrapped up in not being a famous dancer or actress or whatever that she couldn't even understand that she wasn't the only person that he walked out on."

Marshall knew all of this, but waited patiently for her to make her point. He had a feeling it was going to be a good one.

"But Mary." Katie's voice hitched, and Marshall wrenched his eyes to meet hers. "She was a daddy's girl She was Daddy's girl. When he left, he didn't just pack up his things and take off. He took her identity with him." She closed her eyes and steeled herself once more. "He took the part of her who knew who she was, the part of her that was Mary. He took her sense of belonging and safety and self. He stole her identity, and she's never gotten back really."

The light was starting to dawn in Marshall's brain. How had he missed this?

"I mean, she had to start completely over. Just all of a sudden. She had to figure out who else she was now, because you can't be daddy's little girl if daddy leaves. She's lost. She's searching. She hasn't found it yet. He injured her as deeply as a person can, and since then she's kept everyone at arm's length. She's too afraid to let herself become wrapped up in another human being, especially a man. If she did, and he left, and she was that attached, she'd lose herself again. Her identity. She's done that once. She can't do it again. I'm betting she kept Raph at arm's length."

He nodded. She had. She'd told him. Not in so many words, but he knew. She told him once that he was the only person who really knew her. She'd been mistaken. There were two. How had he not put it together before? This is why Mary is so good at her job. This is why she handles the witnesses as well as she does. This is why she gets too wrapped up. Too close. She knows what it's like to have to assume a new life. A new identity. She's done it. And she did it without anyone's help. His respect for her swelled in his chest, and he realized that it wasn't just respect that made his heart palpitate.

"She'll never tell you this, but she trusts you, you know?" Katie said it so softly that he wasn't quite sure he'd heard her right.

He didn't say anything, but he heard her. And he heard what she meant.

"Have you and Mary talked about whatever it was that came between you?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"Are you?"

Her question caught him off guard. "Am I what?"

"Are you going to talk to her?"

"About what?"

"Are you not in love with her, then?" Katie had a bad habit of being too direct at times, and she hoped that this wasn't one of those times. "I mean, I've seen the way you look at her. And no offense, but what's with all the questions about Mary?"

Marshall felt himself blush, starting from his collar line the telltale blood and concomitant warmth told him that he was turning twelve shades of red. "I mean…I just…wha…" He stuttered, berating himself internally. Great job, Mann. Way to be smooth.

"I'm sorry." Katie took his loss for words as a denial. "I was too forward. It's a bad habit, and I'm working on it. I guess I read it wrong. Forget I said anything." She tried to take a nervous bite, but her hands shook a little, and the food dropped off the chopsticks before she could get it to her mouth.

"It's fine." Marshall placated her. "I…uh. There's rules against partners…dating." It was a lame excuse. He'd kick himself for saying it if he could.

"Right." She nodded. "Fraternization and the like."

"Exactly."

"It's a tricky spot." She agreed with him, growing quiet once more.

"They could split us up." He tried to explain, although he knew he was wasting his breath. That wasn't the reason, and they both knew it.

"Plus, you're friends." Katie knew what he wasn't able to say himself. "And she's hard to get a read on."

"That she is." He hung his head limply, shoulders sagging.

"And you aren't sure if she feels the same way." She almost whispered his deepest fear.

"Mary said she trusts you, Marshall." Katie tapped the table with her index finger. "She trusts you. Mary hasn't trusted anyone since she was eight." She grew quiet and waited for him to respond.

He turned her words over and over. She trusts me. I'm her only friend. She trusts me. When he lifted his eyes, still unable to speak, Katie relieved him by doing it for him.

"I guess you have to ask yourself if what you would gain is worth giving up what you could possibly lose." She had a point, but it wasn't anything he didn't already know. "I like you." She cocked her head and watched him. "And I like the two of you together. I've known Mary longer than anyone, and trust me when I tell you that she is more comfortable around you than anyone else. Ever. Ever."

"But is that enough?" His brain screamed silently.

"Give her time." Katie winked at him. "I'll work on it."

Marshall grinned full out now. He knew he liked this girl for a reason. This had been a productive day.

* * *

_That's all for now. Back to parasitology. And then on to cardiovascular. Fun. (Not really)_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So here's the deal. I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm moody. I'm dealing with family crap, and my boyfriend is on the other side of the freaking country (quite literally, actually). I haven't slept for a few days, so I apologize for any mistakes, grammatical, spelling, or otherwise. I tried. I really did. I've proofread a million times, but you know how you only see the spelling error AFTER it's up and posted? Yeah. That's me. That's me all the way. I do want to thank everyone for the incredibly kind reviews. It is so generous of you to take the time to write something after you spend the time reading. I swear I'm going to buy a thesaurus. I even saw a bookstore in walking distance yesterday, I just need the time to actually walk there and get it. Thanks again for reading, thanks even more for reviewing. I'd hug you all, but I need a shower. I hope you all have fabulous weekends (or weekdays, depending on the day of the week that you actually read this). This chapter may be a tad more moody, and I'm blaming that on my own family drama right now. So, enjoy. Or not. I'm sorry if you don't. Rambling now, so I'm gonna go. Take care (and thanks for reviewing...)

* * *

Mary was tucked comfortably onto the sofa watching television with a mug of hot coffee and a cinnamon roll when Katie and Marshall arrived back at the house. She looked up from her breakfast and mumbled something that Katie took to mean "good morning."

"Hello to you, too." Katie chirped brightly as she moved to the kitchen to put away the groceries.

Mary turned her attentions back to her partner, and smirked at him. "Done communing with produce?"

He took a seat beside her nudged her with his shoulder. "We had fun, thanks for asking. How was your morning?" Not that he couldn't tell. Her hair was freshly washed and smelled faintly of coconut, and her skin was still pink from the shower. She looked…refreshed.

"Not too bad." She shoveled another bite in and talked around it. "Katie made cinnamon buns."

"I know." He raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly. "She let me have one."

"I hope you enjoyed it." Mary muttered. ""Cause that's all your getting."

Marshall just smiled and leaned back against the cushions. Propping his feet up, he grinned at his partner. "Whatcha waching?"

"Law and Order." She eyed the remote nervously, then snatched it up, settling it safely on the other side of her lap, away from Marshall. She was well acquainted with his penchant to change the channel when she wasn't looking. When he made a questioning face at her, she smirked right back. "I'm not watching any of that educational crap you like today. My TV."

Marshall was about to respond when Katie entered the living room.

"Hey, Mare?" She inquired.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"You need anything?"

"Nah. I'm good." Mary smiled affectionately at her little cousin, who really wasn't little anymore. She was all grown up. Still.

"I'm going to go hit the books then. I've got a ton of stuff to study this weekend."

"Have fun with that." Mary called over her shoulder sarcastically.

Katie turned and looked before she shut the door to her room.

"NO!" Mary was shrieking as Marshall reached over her to grab the remote. "My TV! My house!" She was struggling and struggling so hard that she didn't notice the way Marshall was draped across most of her body.

"Let…me…have…it." Marshall grunted as he attempted to wrestle the controller from her grasp.

Katie just smiled and shut the door to the bedroom carefully, eyes bright and smile wide when she heard the distinctive thump of bodies hitting the floor and Mary's yelp. She didn't need to see to know what had just happened.

"Jesus, Stan," Mary growled as she walked into the Sunshine Building Monday morning with more than a small dose of her usual cheerfulness. "Tell me there's a transfer. A babysitting mission. ANYTHING that will get me the hell out of here for a few days."

Stan raised his eyebrows and glanced at Marshall, who merely shrugged and mirrored his boss's expression.

"Good morning, Mary." Stan closed the file he was reading and dropped it on his desk. "As a matter of fact, there is."

"Thank God." Mary muttered as she dropped her personal belongings on her desk and dropped into the chair. "How far is it? It is Kentucky? Because you know, everyone should see Kentucky eventually."

"Portland, actually." Stan handed Marshall the file for the inspector to peruse.

"Maine?" Mary's voice was positively ecstatic. "Seriously, Stan, you are my absolute favorite person today."

"Not Maine." Marshall frowned absently. "Oregon."

"Whatever." Mary's newfound good mood was not deterred at all by the new information. "That's still like, hundreds of miles away. Oregon sounds great. When do we leave?"

Stan and Marshall exchanged another confused look. Mary was never this eager to start an arduous transfer. She usually complained, at least a little, and Marshall had discovered early on that there was a direct linear relationship between the distance they would be travelling and the amount of arguing she did about it.

"Mary?" Marshall asked her later. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great, Marsh, why?"

He couldn't figure it out. She looked genuinely excited at the prospect of driving for days on end. Stuck in a car.

"Okay." He was wary to push, but his better judgment told him that there was something afoot here. "If you change your mind…" He hesitated. Mary hated being patronized to. "I'm here." He finished abruptly, but knew she'd understand.

Mary opened her mouth, as if to say something, and then shut it hard. Her features softened, though, and Marshall was relieved to see that he'd made the right choice.

"Later." He heard her say as he tossed his wooden coffee stirrer into the trash and headed back for his desk.

Turning to face her, he took careful inventory of her face. He knew every curve and plane of it, but now her brow was knitted with something akin to worry. Her eyes were sunken and red, from a night of drinking or not sleeping or…crying, he realized. Instantly on alert, he met her brown eyes, his blue questioning orbs asking for something, anything…to let him know she was okay. Mary was only grateful for her partner's ability to read her emotions like this on very rare occasions, but this was one of them.

"Wanna make the rounds now?" Marshall suggested, hoping to get her alone in the car. She'd poured her soul out to him between visiting witnesses before. He prayed the pattern would continue. His hopes would be dismayed, though, as Mary was as silent as before in the office the entire trip. She was agitated, anxious. Marshall was thankful for the shoulder harness strapping her firmly in place, for without it he was positive she would have vibrated right out of her seat. Something had happened.

Marshall's worry grew throughout the day as he watched a normally alert, abrasive Mary introvert and become taciturn. She didn't complain about the department-funded redeye to Portland with two layovers, she didn't whine about the cramped quarters or throw in sarcastic comments about how cheap the Marshal's Service is to stick them both in cramped coach seats. All of this was worrisome, but when she sat up straight, eyes wide open and didn't fall asleep, even though the plane left past eleven o'clock p.m. Marshall's internal alert system got bumped up from orange to red. He tried to doze, but her silence was as distracting as her usual steady string of insults and curses.

The plane landed, and Marshall checked his boarding pass for the hundredth time. The printing still told him that they would have a three hour wait before they could board their next flight. He and Mary hunkered down in the obnoxiously individually portioned seating with the annoying arm rests in between each seat that made it impossible to spread out, lay down, and get some sleep. Not that he could have slept anyway. Mary had been silent for almost an hour now, and he was almost frantic. He was watching her out of the corner of his eye as she sat slumped angrily in the terminal chair, arms laced across her chest, defiant. Her head nodded imperceptibly, though, and he caught it. Again, her head bobbed, and again, each time, she jerked her head up, eyes wide open with determination to remain conscious. He couldn't take it any more.

"Come with me." He rose and pulled Mary to her feet, gathering her luggage with his. "Come on." He led her over to a wall, slid down, and pulled her with him.

"Take off your jacket." He instructed as she stared at him.

"It's freezing in here." Mary refused. "Seriously, Marshall, it's like forty degrees in here. I'm surprised the local butchers aren't using the terminal as a meat locker. If we died in here, we wouldn't even decompose."

"Take off your jacket." He repeated softly, grateful that she was at least still functional enough to argue with him. He made a face at her and removed his coat as well.

"I don't want to." She raised her chin defiantly. She had always hated being told what to do, and even though she knew that Marshall would have never requested such an activity unless he had a good reason, she felt she had to argue on principle.

"Mare, come on." He was getting exasperated. She waited, waited for him to back off, and when he didn't, she complied. Slowly, she removed the flimsy garment and held it up for him to see.

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic." His response was dry and sarcastic, but he was too busy draping his coat around her shoulders to notice the face she made at him. "Here. Mine's warmer."

"Now you'll freeze." She protested. "And you'll get sick."

"No, I won't." He countered. "But if you don't get some sleep, you will." He folded her jacket into a neat square and placed it on his lap, stretching out his legs in front of him. Grasping her upper arm softly, he urged her to lie down. "Come one. Get some sleep."

Mary scoffed at him and refused to budge. "I'm not sleeping with my face planted in your crotch, Doofus."

He hadn't actually thought about how this would look, and she did have a point. "Fine." He grabbed one of their bags, covered it with the soft jacket, and held out his hands. "Voila. A pillow."

"You're gonna get sick." She warned him, even as she laid her head on the makeshift sleeping quarters.

"You're gonna get some rest." He countered, voice low and soft and his hand, unbidden by his brain, reached out to smooth her hair from her face. She murmured something fairly incomprehensible as she fell asleep, lulled into that sweet place of comfort by his gentle fingers stroking lazily through her golden locks.

Mary was sure she'd only been asleep five minutes or less when Marshall shook her gently.

"Mare." His voice was a whisper. "Mare, we landed."

"Hhmmmhhm?" Came her reply, as she pulled her head off his shoulder. Wait. Marshall's shoulder? She didn't remember using him as a pillow. She barely remembered boarding the plane.

"Come on." He helped her stand, knowing she was a slow starter after a nap. "Let's go. We have to make our connection." The plane was mostly deserted, only parents with small children and the elderly remained, but Marshall hadn't wanted to wake her until the last moment necessary. The stewardess came over a few times to move them off sooner, but a quick flash of his badge had quelled her urging.

Mary insisted on carrying her own bags, and stumbled a few times before her legs and feet started cooperating with the rest of her. Marshall thought she was adorable when she was sleepy, especially when she was still too out of it to throw things at him or punch him for letting her sleep that long in the first place.

"How long is the layover?" She yawned.

"We have twenty minutes." He was pulling her now. "Come on. It's across the airport." Marshall, it turns out, was one of those people who actually read the in-flight magazine, and had memorized the floor plans to the airport in San Francisco.

Mary followed him at a trot at first, then a run, cursing and muttering the whole way about poor planning and the idiot people working for the airlines who schedule flights so close together. Her complaints did wonders to relieve Marshall's worry. She was fine. Or she'd be fine. One way or the other.

Marshall had hoped, nay prayed, that Mary would fall asleep again and get some much-needed rest on the connecting flight, but he had long ago learned to not be surprised when she did the opposite of what he anticipated. Instead of sleeping, she squirmed, festered, and rocked with pent up energy and something else. He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye, brain scrambling to unravel the puzzle. Mary usually told him what was bothering her in time, on her turf. On her terms. He had tried, on occasion, to give her the opportunity to tell him. Time to explode in that cathartic way that only Mary could. He thought back to a conversation he'd had with Katie, and missed her council immediately. She knew how to handle Mary better than even he, and while it stung him a smidgen that someone else understood his partner better, he was grateful for her insights.

"_You read, right?" Katie glanced up at him in between sips of lemonade, her green eyes peering above the rims of her glasses. _

"_Some might say obsessively." He nodded._

"_You ever read Melville?" She queried, and he again nodded in ascent. _

"_Moby Dick?" Now he wondered where she was going with this. If she was going to compare Mary to a whale…well he had a few problems with that implication. And if she was going to speculate that Mary bore a resemblance to Ishmael…he paused and actually drew a few of those conclusions himself, but Katie had different ideas._

"_Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth," she started quoting, and Marshall felt he'd been suckerpunched. "Whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses…" she paused and took a breath, searching his face for comprehension._

"_And bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can." He finished automatically, the words tripping of his tongue easily. He knew the story; had read the book, devoured it, searched it for symbolism when he was younger. More naïve. Still, though, he wasn't quite up to speed, and eyed her curiously as he waited for her to continue._

"_Mary has rarely had a substitute for a pistol and ball." Katie paraphrased, and the connection started to dawn on Marshall. "Mary spends a great deal of her life grim about the mouth." She paused, took another sip, staring into the distance with an unreadable look on her face. _

_She sipped again, then continued. "She's grim a lot. Has been for years. And she's never really had a sea to take to, you know?" It was a rhetorical question, but he nodded anyway. "She…she just…she had – no has – me. And she has you. That's all there ever really has been. And I've been…gone…" she tripped over the words awash with guilt. "I've been gone for a while, so she's only had you. I have a sneaky suspicion that you're the only thing standing between her and her pistol and ball most days. She needs that. Everybody needs that, but Mary does especially. She…God, I love her, but she…she just…coping mechanisms, okay? She's great at "dealing." She's great at "getting by." She's a pro at denial. But actual coping? Mary's all instinct. She's quick and kind of the "kick ass and take names later" type. Always has been." She smiled as she remembered more than one incident involving the two of them pitted against others, fists bared and teeth drawn. She had always had Mary's back before…shaking her head she met Marshall's interested gaze. _

"_You help her." She finished simply. "You're her sea." _

_He could tell that it hurt her to admit this, that she blamed herself for not being there physically the past few years. "Yeah." He nodded in agreement. "But it goes both ways." _

"_Good." Katie nodded, chomping in earnest on her previously forgotten pretzel before grimacing and swallowing with effort. "Okay, this?" She held up the offending snack food. "Is not a pretzel. Come to New York, and I'll show you a real pretzel. There's this place in Greenwich Village that…" She stopped abruptly, and gasped, realizing her faux pas. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm…gosh that was rude." He bought her a snack, paid for it with his own money, and here she was criticizing it. _

"_Rude?" He was busy eating her pretzel, having already finished his own. _

"_I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I…I like it. I'll finish it." She held out her hand sheepishly, and a little nervously. _

"_You don't have to eat it." He continued chewing. "I can take care of it for you." _

_Katie perplexed him. She had a habit of going off on a tangent, stopping, then pushing him away with apologies and pleas for forgiveness, and something indefinable in her eyes. He wondered what in her past had built up this defense. Mary had enough defenses, but she was less of a mystery to him. She was guarded and prickly, but he'd pulled away most of those layers and met the real Mary. Katie was more difficult. She was open and bubbly in some ways, but sometimes he thought he glimpsed a speck of something else right before she repaired the hole in her armor with speed and efficacy that made Mary look right down cuddly. _

Marshall smirked with the memory and the comparison of Mary to something cuddly. Looking at her now, she was anything but. Hesitantly reaching out a hand, he placed a careful squeeze on her forearm, hoping to convey some sort of understanding and comfort. She rewarded him with a tight smile, then hunkered down in her airplane seat, an obvious attempt to control her antsiness that would ultimately prove futile.

"You okay?" He murmured quietly enough for only her to hear.

She actually hesitated, paused and considered his words before answering. "I'll be fine."

That wasn't actually an answer to the question he'd asked, but he appreciated that she needed to be left alone for a while longer, and just hoped she'd hold out until they were alone. He doubted that it would be easy to explain away her outburst to a crew of nervous flight attendants, and flashing the badge would really only get you so far.

Mary seemed to relax, and whether or not she actually DID or not, Marshall could not tell. The plane landed abruptly, bucking down the runway and jostling the passengers awake. Mary gripped tight to Marshall's thigh without realizing it, and he just stared at her hand, knuckles white and fingers long. Slender. Grasping his leg.

"You good?" He asked her when she had failed to remove her grip or loosen her grasp, even as they taxied to a stop.

"Great." She answered characteristically, pulling her hand away quickly, reprimanding herself internally for the external display of weakness and fear. Years ago, scared and hungry in a new apartment tucked in a ratty corner of some rundown building that Jinx had just relocated them to, Mary had made a deal with herself. She could still remember Brandi's eyes, wide and innocent as she pulled the blankets a little closer around herself, and asked her big sister when Mommy was coming back. Mary promised herself that she would be stronger. That she would show no weakness to anyone, no matter what she felt on the inside. That promise had fueled her, driven her to excel in school, in athletics. In the academy she'd actually scared some of the guys. They'd been sparring, and the look in her eyes, the one she'd been perfecting for years, hardening so that no one could see inside, had actually scared off the men. Boys, she corrected. They'd all been so young then.

And Katie. Oh, Katie. She loved her, she really did, but having her at the house was getting to be too much for her to bear. She could deal with Brandi. She could tolerate Jinx if she had to. But Katie. Katie still seemed to have that innocence that Mary secretly craved, and even though she genuinely knew better – knew all the sordid details of Katie's not-no-perfect childhood – all she could see when she looked at her was that little girl. Katie had always been small. The shortest in her class, the first to stop growing. She looked for all the world like she would break if someone spoke to her too harshly. Mary had seen the steely backbone that lived inside the younger woman's spine. She'd witnessed the gentility and the wrath that the tiny girl wielded. And still, she felt responsible. She saw them as children, playing together, later getting into mischief, and it was those parts of her childhood that Mary tried so desperately to forget. Or ignore. Sometimes she wasn't sure which. But Katie reminded her. She was tired of being reminded.

Marshall took care of the car rental while she collected baggage, grateful for his intuition. She wasn't up to dealing with people right now, so snagging baggage off the carousel was a welcome reprieve from the incompetence of most rental desk staff.

"All set?" Marshall asked as he slung his bags over his shoulder. "I've got the car and directions to the motel."

"Motel?" She had really been hoping for something a little more high class on this trip, but leave it to the USMS to skimp on accommodations. Whatever. At least it was a bed. Maybe she could sleep.

All checked in, Marshall watched as Mary angrily fought with her key card. The lock was refusing to cooperate, and it only fueled whatever battle was already raging inside her head. He slid his card into the slot and smiled as the light turned green with an annoying beep. He opened the door, and tried to get Mary's attention.

"Trade you rooms?" He offered, gesturing to his already open door. "I'll take that one and have the office reset it."

He had expected her to argue. At least a pretense of irritation. He got nothing. No chastising for being a ridiculous excuse of a gentleman. No stab at his antiquated south Texas upbringing. No argument. No thanks. She just snapped the card out of his hand, shoved hers into his chest and pushed past him into the room, kicking the door closed with her foot as she went. The card fluttered to the ground as Marshall stared at the room number, dazed for a moment. This one was a doozy.

Marshall had showered, brushed, and changed when the beating started on his door. He knew who it was without looking through the peephole, and scrambled out of bed, putting down the latest book he was reading onto the night stand.

He opened the door to reveal an agitated Mary almost cowering outside on the walkway. Stepping aside and gesturing her in, he didn't wait for an explanation for her appearance. He'd been expecting her. Stayed up for her and waited, in fact. Mary didn't disappoint.

He sat on the edge of the motel bed and watched in silence as she paced, wrestling with the words, working up to actually getting them out. She had showered, he could see. Her blonde hair was darker now, and wet as it hung limply on her shoulders, droplets tracing dark streaks down her red shirt. He knew that she usually found a shower relaxing. The heat of the water or the solitude of the activity, he was never sure, and it didn't seem like it was his place to ask. One thing was fairly certain, though, she had not relaxed one bit since he'd seen her ninety minutes ago.

"Katie and I had a fight." She stilled momentarily, facing him square on and gauging his reaction. He merely nodded, waiting for her to continue. She hated him for his ability to just wait, sit patiently while she doled out the dribbles of her life in bits and pieces. He rarely pressed. Even more infrequently insisted. He was just there. Waiting. For her.

"She's driving me crazy." The pacing resumed.

"She's always there. She's just there. Perky and bubbly and helpful." She stilled again. "She just cooks and cleans. Over and over. My house has never been this clean. You know she actually cleaned MY room?" She spat out "my room" exasperatedly. "She gathered up all my laundry, changed the sheets, and cleaned my entire room. My room!" Her voice had risen higher in deparation, but Marshall knew that it was borne of desperation to avoid the actual subject. This was not what had upset her so. "She put away my stuff, and what she didn't put away, she picked up, cleaned under, and put back in exactly the same place. God!" She pushed off the bathroom counter that she had leaned against momentarily.

"And she has the gall to tell me I need to grow up." She growled, and Marshall felt the pit in his stomach relieve a bit as she got around to the crux of the situation. "Why is it that every single person in my life thinks that they have an open invitation to tell me how to live my life? Why is everyone in my life so fucking interested in how I conduct my life? My life!" She repeated the phrase, and Marshall started to understand what was wrong. Katie had too much insight into Mary. She understood her too well, and nothing would irritate Mary like having her own emotions placed in the open to be examined without her consent. She hated feeling naked in front of people. She wore her defenses in armored layers, shielding herself from the watchful eye of the outside world.

Mary had grown silent, sullen now as she replayed the argument in head.

"Can you walk me through what happened?" Marshall was still sitting on the edge of the bed, willing himself to stay calm. He knew she needed a gentle nudge before she'd unload the rest.

"_Did you clean my room?" Mary accused, anger evident in her voice. _

"_Just a little." Katie shrugged and glanced up from her homework. "I wanted to do the laundry, so I got yours and it just sort of snowballed from there." _

"_I didn't say you could go in my room!" Mary's voice was gaining volume as she avoided the actual problem. _

"_I didn't take anything, geesh." Katie was baiting her, and it annoyed Mary to no end. "Just cool your jets, Mare. I did laundry, and straightened up a little. That's all." _

"_Stay the hell out of my stuff!" Mary was almost on the verge of yelling now. This had been building for days._

"_Everything here is your stuff." Katie pointed out. "We agreed that I'd help out if you let me stay here. I'm just trying to keep up my end of the bargain."_

_That was the problem, though. Mary had never agreed to this bargain. "Well, just leave it alone." She spat angrily. "Leave me alone." _

_Katie sighed and watched as her cousin stomped away, flinching as the door slammed. She needed her own place. Mary didn't emerge again for hours, but when she did, she was fit and ready for round two. Katie was still at the table, still studying, and for some reason that irked Mary even more. _

"_God, don't you ever do anything but study?" She jeered. "You need to get a life outside of school and cleaning my house. Or does domestic labor actually suit you?" It was a cold stab at the work that Katie had done after high school. Mary understood better than anyone why she'd taken the job. Why it suited her in the first place. She knew all the circumstances, and she stabbed at them all with a knife and just kept cutting. _

_Katie didn't take the bait. She breathed out a slow exhale to study herself and turned to face her red-faced cousin. _

"_And why the hell are you and Marshall so cozy?" Mary continued her tirade, angry hands pointing accusatorily at Katie. "You're not his type, you know?" It was a low blow. It was wrong. She was wrong. Katie, actually, was exactly Marshall's type, and Mary knew it. They were complementary. They were perfect for each other, with one exception. _

"_I'm not trying to get into his pants, Mary." Katie finally stood. If she was going to be in this fight, she was going to do it right. Giving up her passive aggressive tactics, she stood facing Mary. "That's your move, if I remember correctly, isn't it? That has you written all over it."_

"_Be careful." Mary wrenched out through gritted teeth. _

"_Be careful?" Katie scoffed. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? Careful went out the window a LONG time ago."_

"_We are not discussing that now." _

"_What ARE we discussing now?" Katie shouted back, not one bit afraid. She'd argued with Mary enough to know that she had to match her volume for volume, insult for insult if she was going to walk away at all. Show weakness, and she'd be devoured by the depth of Mary's rage. It hadn't always been like this, she remembered. _

"_Why can't you just leave me alone?" Mary repeated, knowing her words were a flimsy cover for the real problem. _

"_Right." Katie nodded sarcastically. "Why doesn't everyone just leave Mary alone? Why does everyone insist on annoying her with their simple existence? Wouldn't you just be better off if we all disappeared and left you alone?"_

"_Well maybe I would!" She seemed to remember her earlier question. "And don't change the subject!" This was silly. This was stupid. She knew it. She was picking a fight with the person she loved best in the world, and it wasn't fair. _

"_Leave Marshall alone!" She hissed territorially. _

"_I'm not INTERESTED in MARSHALL!" Katie hissed back, voice low and laced with venom. _

"_And when exactly are you getting your own place?" Mary plodded in this ridiculous attempt to fight._

"_I tried to get a place!" Katie reminded her. "You said you wouldn't let me live there."_

"_I don't need this." Mary spun on her heel and started to storm away._

"_Just run away, why don't you?" Katie pushed. "That's what you do best, isn't it?"_

_Mary turned back around so quickly that Katie was surprised she didn't give herself whiplash. "You got something to say to me?" She crept closer, using her height to try to intimidate the shorter woman. _

_It was a tactic that Katie was prepared for, though. She was used to this. Drawing herself up to her full five feet, she stared back evenly. "You think you have some sort of monopoly on pain? You think you're the only one with problems? Well you're not. You went through some shit, Mary, no one's disputing that. But you think that gives you the right to treat everyone in your life like crap, well you're wrong!" She took a step forward, surprised and a little empowered when Mary matched her with a retreating step backward of her own. _

"_You don't even see it! You can't just let it go. I'm sorry your dad left, Mary. I'm sorry your life is crappy and you're unhappy. I'm sorry you and Raphael broke up! I'm sorry I wasn't here the past couple years, but that was your decision, so don't you dare blame me for it now!" She shook her head and pointed at the taller, angry woman in front of her when Mary opened her mouth to speak. _

"_I've stood up for you my entire life." Katie continued. "I've defended you. I've tried to be there for you, but you have to meet me halfway. Hell, you just have to meet SOMEONE halfway. Anyone. Pick someone, I don't care who. You're hurting, I can see that. But I can't help if you won't let me in. Let someone in!" She took a breath and continued. "Other people hurt, too, you know? And I know you've had it rough. I know you had to grow up quick and take on responsibilities that you should have never had to do. I'm know it, and I'm sorry. But you need to stop making everyone around you pay for mistakes that aren't theirs!"_

_Mary sucked in a hurt breath and shut her mouth. _

"_You think you're alone, but you make sure no one gets close to you. You keep everyone away so you won't get hurt again. You're dad left, Mary." Katie softened her voice. "He left, and it was wrong and terrible. I'm so sorry he hurt you, but there are people that haven't left. There are people that want to love you, but you won't let them." She was whispering now, her anger from only moments ago evaporated. "You can't even see what's right in front of you. And if you can't see that and accept it, then you'll never have it. I get that you're hurting. I get that you think you can't be happy and have good things; that you don't deserve them, but you need to understand something. You CAN be happy. You CAN…"_

_Mary assumed she was talking about Raph, and pounced, cutting her off angrily. "You don't even know what you're talking about." She shouted vehemently. "You never even met him. And he left me! I didn't break up with him."_

"_I wasn't talking about Raphael, Mary." Katie shook her head sadly. "I don't care about him. From what I hear, you're better off without him." She realized her mistake instantly, as Mary's face clouded in unrepressed anger. _

"_From what you hear?" She snarled. "What you hear? What are you two just sitting around discussing who has to pick up the pieces now?"_

"_I asked him what he thought of Raph, that's all." Katie tried to keep her voice even this time, drained from fighting, and hoping it would all be over soon. _

"_You had no right! You had no right to talk about Raph with him." She wasn't sure what bothered her more; the fact that Katie and Marshall were talking about her failed relationship or the fact that Katie just suggested that she was better off without it. _

"_Well I wasn't getting anything from you." Katie was just mad now. She'd uprooted her entire life to come out here, and this was the thanks she got?_

"_I never asked you to come here!" Mary hollered. "I didn't ask for your help! I didn't…" She trailed off when tears welled up in Katie's eyes. _

"_Then I'll go." She said, tears hitching her breath as she spoke. "And you won't have to worry about me in your space or in your life again."_

"_Yeah, whatever." Mary turned and slammed the door to her bedroom. Pushing the heels of her hands to her eyes, she slid down the back of the door, feeling immediately guilty as she heard Katie's quiet sobs. "Fuck!" She shouted, and launched a pair of socks across the room, hitting a vase of flowers she hadn't even known were there. She felt the familiar pang of guilt take up residence in her stomach as she watched the vase teeter and fall. They were lilies. Her favorite. Katie had gotten her favorite flowers and put them in her room. And she'd driven her away. Again. "Fuck." She repeated again, quieter this time. She closed her eyes and slumped against the door. "I've done it this time." She thought to herself wearily. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she registered the front door closing a few hours later, but she was too deep in her own self pity to pick herself up off the floor and investigate. She'd deal with it later. Or not. Whatever. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. _

Marshall was pacing now, and it was making Mary skittish.

His mind was trying to wrap itself around what Mary had told him. He had to rearrange the bits to put them in order, since they spilled out of her mouth at random. She and Katie had fought, and it had been ugly. Angry words had been exchanged, and Mary was blaming herself.

"_Now's my chance."_ He thought to himself, internally groaning at the irony_. "I'm the sea."_

"Tell me what happened after." He urged her softly.

"After what?"

"What happened this morning?"

"She's gone." Mary shrugged like it didn't bother her, but he knew better.

"She moved out?"

"I guess." She threw him a careless glance, knowing it wouldn't work. Marshall could read her like a book. He always had. So had Katie, then, and hadn't that really been the problem? As much as she tried to act like it was nothing, he knew better. He knew that it was killing her, that she feared the angry words they had exchanged would be the last they ever spoke.

"For good?"

"I don't know." She sunk down on the mattress tiredly.

Marshall frowned. He had not anticipated this. "What happened back there?" He frowned at Mary's scrunched up face. "In Jersey. Before." He clarified. "Why did you two stop talking?" Maybe he'd understand better what prompted this argument if he had all the facts.

"Like you don't already know." Mary was still kind of mad at him. He had no right to go behind her back discussing her private life with anyone.

"I don't know." Marshall sat beside her on the bed and stared straight ahead. "She said I'd have to talk to you if I wanted to get the story."

Mary closed her eyes and shook her head. "Of course." She thought to herself. Katie wouldn't betray her confidence. Not to Marshall. Not about this.

"I…uh…" She hesitated. "I slept with her boyfriend." She confessed, head down and voice low. She felt guilty even today.

"Oh." He got it. It all made sense now.

"No." Mary shook her head. "No, you don't get it." She squirmed a little, and settled her gaze on her knees. "He was her first boyfriend. And Katie…she…her life wasn't as great as you'd think. I know she's all happy and sweet, and pretty much the opposite of me in every way, but she's not. Not really. She just deals with her crap differently…better…I don't know." She'd known. She'd known, and she'd done it anyway. "She…he said she wouldn't have sex with him. Like they'd never had sex, and they'd been together a while. And I knew why. I knew why, and I slept with him. And she walked in and found us together. I mean, not in the act, but you know. She knew."

Marshall nodded, brain working furiously to put all the pieces together.

"What really got me was she wasn't even mad." Mary laughed a little. "She wasn't mad at me, and that made me angry. Like she just expected me to betray her like that. She said she understood." Mary stopped talking suddenly, and Marshall wisely kept his tongue.

"I was the reason we weren't speaking." She whispered. Katie's forgiveness had been too much for her to bear. She couldn't look into her eyes without feeling the weight of guilt press on her.

Marshall draped an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged it off.

"Now she's gone." She choked off, falling back against the mattress so she wouldn't have to see Marshall's pitying eyes. "I drove her away again." _ Just like I do to everybody_, she finished silently in her head, but Marshall heard it anyway. He always did. He just _knew_ when she was wallowing in self-pity.

"Mare." Marshall laid down beside her, mirroring her position, legs dangling off the edge, feet still planted on the floor.

"Now now, please, Marshall." She whispered.

"Sorry, but I need to say this." His voice was steady and even. "You need to hear this." He was finished piecing together the argument and something had caught his attention.

"She was right, you know?" He didn't wait for her to respond. "You do deserve to be happy." He watched to see if she'd respond, but she didn't so he continued.

"Why do you think she moved here?" He questioned carefully.

"Because…I don't know. She likes the university." That was a lie, and she knew it. She knew HE knew it, too, but she didn't want to say why.

"She moved out here, uprooted her life to come out here and make sure you were okay. She was worried that you'd internalize everything and not deal with it." He continued, knowing that Katie's fears had been well-founded. "She moved out here for you." He finished, and watched as Mary's brain churned gears for the point he was obtusely making.

"I didn't ask her to." She said petulantly.

"That was kind of the point, I think." Marshall smiled softly. She hated being coddled.

"But…"

"She loves you, Mary." Marshall cut her off. "She just wants you to be happy." This was a new role for him, patching up near sibling rivalries and arguments. Marshall had long-since realized that Katie was far more of a sister to Mary than Brandi ever was. Brandi occupied a dependent role in Mary's life, while Katie strived to be depended upon. To be seen as an equal.

Mary was silent for a long while, eyes closed and contemplating her partner's words. He stayed beside her, losing track of time as he counted ceiling tiles. Katie had nearly betrayed his feelings to Mary. She hadn't picked up on the slip, but it galled him a little. On the other hand, maybe it would help matters out. Poor kid, he thought to himself. Mary had alluded to something in Katie's past that was less than savory. That explained the look in her eyes sometimes, he concluded. And Mary. He turned his head, and observed her for a moment. She'd fallen asleep, exhausted from her outburst. He smiled, pleased she was finally getting some rest, but amused at the predicament that placed him in now. Sitting up carefully, he spied her room key on the table where she'd thrown it down when she first stormed into his room. After he'd covered her with the blanket as well as he could, he paused, brushing her hair out of her face with feather light fingertips. Mary resisted assistance in all areas of her life, so this blowup with her cousin had been inevitable. Katie probably knew it was inevitable, and came anyway. Her own words echoed thoughts that he had considered voicing on more than one occasion. Maybe it would help. He just hoped it wouldn't hurt more. He left a note on the motel note pad, replaced her room key with his, and closed the door carefully behind him.

* * *

A/N: Marshall to the rescue? Maybe not. Stay tuned. It's already in my head, it just takes time to transfer to document form, edit a trillion times, re-edit, then end up with it exactly the way it was the first time. Ahhh. Circles. How comforting. Hugs!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Still far, far away from home in cold, rainy New England. Why do people voluntarily live here? I don't get it. I like the sunshine. It makes me happy. I guess that's why I live in the desert. School sucks, but that's par for the course. Here's another chapter. I'm not sure about it, personally. I'm not at my best here. Sick. Exhausted. Irritated at family members. Happy with boyfriend, though, so that's a bright light in the darkness. The next chapter will be easier. I know where that one's going. And the one after. This one was...more difficult. They usually write themselves. This was like pulling teeth! Loving the reader/reviewer love that's been sent my way, though! I'd hug you all, but that could be weird. And time-consuming. Instead, I'll thank you, then go study for board exams. So tired of school. I still don't own the characters. Don't sue me. I'm just borrowing them for a few minutes.

* * *

Marshall sighed, and tried to relax in the bed. Mary's bed. Not that she'd ever slept in it, but still. The room was full of her belongings. The bathroom smelled like coconut, and in the absence of actually being in the same room with her, this was fairly close. He had spent a moment perusing her products before he climbed into bed. Smelled her shampoo. Opened her lotion bottle to inhale the gentle vanilla scent that he'd come to associate with his partner. He rolled over and flicked on the television, then groaned out loud when he saw the time. After six am. They were supposed to meet with the Portland field office at eleven, which gave him three, maybe three and a half hours to sleep. Of course he'd need to procure some sort of breakfast for both of them. Mary would be grumpy, with both the sleep deprivation and the morning's earlier emotional outburst dragging mood south. He would ply her with coffee and omelets if he could; make jokes, ramble on endlessly about the economic ramifications of the Marshall plan on Eastern Bloc countries in the early 1990s or the mating habits of the great horned owl. No. Scratch that. It was probably smarter to omit any ramblings regarding mating habits for a while now. Mary insisted that she was fine, that she was not affected by the engagement being called off, but he knew better. He wracked his brain to come up with another topic. Since his episode of "verbal impotence," as Mary had so thoughtfully put it, he had made a habit of reciting facts to himself at night, preparing lists, that he may have them ready whenever she required. It wasn't a chore, not really. He'd made a game of it, striving to find the most mundane trivia, and then regaling her with it as if it were the most interesting bit of information he'd ever found. A few weeks ago he had actually spent ten minutes explaining how the Carnot heat engine worked, and before that another twenty minute mini-lecture detailing the minutia of how bird beak morphology determined diet, habitat, and migratory patterns. He wasn't certain if she ever listened, or if she just liked the gentle droning cadence of his voice. Maybe she just liked to tune him out, make his spiel white noise, relieved to not be expected to listen or respond. She probably needed that, he reasoned, and he was more than willing to give it to her. Perhaps an explanation of how the rapid hyperinflation in post-World War I Weimar Republic helped pave the path for the rampant anti-Semitism that had been brewing since the early twentieth century, or how the nationalist movements in separate European countries in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries lead to a policy of isolationism not only in the US, but in Europe as well, only furthering the aforementioned anti-Semetic sentiment, and further helped set the stage for the atrocities of World War II. She'd like that one. Long, technical, filled with economic jargon, but still relevant. He'd try to remember to work in the word "aforementioned," too. She hated it when he used words like that. He thought that sometimes when he was able to tie one of his "rants," as she called them, into some bit of prior knowledge she already possessed that she liked it better. Listened better. Relaxed more.

There was nothing on the crappy cable television station except for infomercials, and as much as Marshall liked to stay in shape, he didn't feel that he needed Chuck Norris to sell him a Total Gym to obtain that goal. He lay motionless in the dark for a moment, and it hit him. He knew what was bothering him. He figured out why he couldn't turn off, relax, and go to sleep. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? He'd left. Mary fell asleep, and he left. He'd left her. Alone. Upset. True, he was only a few doors down, but it was all the same to him. His memories drifted back to his drive home late one evening a few weeks ago, her silhouetted image burned into his brain. He imagined her face, sad and forlorn as she watched him drive away from her, and it had kept him up more than once at night. Unfortunately, the room key was locked in the room with her. As was his ID. Glancing around, he flicked a light back on and opened the door to the night stand. Inside he found her piece and badge. If he held up only part of the badge, the star, perhaps, he could get the goofy looking night attendant to give him another key. He could come up with a story on the fly that would sound convincing. He'd done it more than once. Sighing, he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and slipped his running shoes back on. Bundling up against the cold night air, he bit back a gasp and hustled into the office.

"Excuse me?" He was actually trying to be polite, but the kid was playing some inane video game and held up one hand to tell Marshall to wait. Wait. Not gonna happen.

"Look, kid, I'm a US Marshal," He said in his most condescending voice. "I said excuse me, and now you're going to pay attention and listen up."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." The kid muttered as he spun his chair around so his back was to the desk.

Marshal very nearly came undone, and he credited the fact that Stan would kill him if he broke this kid's neck for his restraint. Hopping the desk and collaring the kid like a suspect was probably not the smartest move, so he settled for his patented "bad cop" routine. It worked on criminals, it would probably work a kid.

"Look, kid." He drolled, lengthening the words for effect. "I said I'm a US Marshal, and I don't have time to play games with you. You are going to get me a key to room two fourteen, and you're going to do it now."

"Hey, man, chill out." Marshall smelled the alcohol on his breath. And the room reeked of weed.

It occurred to Marshall only after the incident that he could get into serious trouble for abusing his badge, well Mary's badge more correctly, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. It was for Mary, so everything was fair game. Grabbing the blankets from the bed in Mary's room, he secured her gun and badge, depositing them in his own drawer. Now he had a predicament, though. Mary was still asleep, though now she was curled into a ball at the foot of the bed. He slipped off her shoes, a task made easier now that her feet were not planted on the floor. He could pull her up so she could stretch out; be more comfortable. Or he could leave her and ensure that he still had the ability to father future generations lest she awaken in the process. It seemed cruel to leave her to sleep in an awkward position and awaken with kinks and pains. It seemed unwise to awaken her and allow her to arrange herself more comfortably, and the question still remained as to where exactly he was going to sleep. Ultimately he decided to err on the side of caution, fixed the blankets around her more securely, and curled into a similar ball at the head of the bed, using the blankets from her room to shield him from the cool Oregon air. He watched her back rise and fall with her breathing for a while, hypnotized by the sight of her asleep. It had been a rough year for both of them. She'd been through the ringer and back a few times, and he knew it affected her more than she would ever tell him. He'd been close to a breakdown a few times himself, his worry for her all-consuming. He tried to not let on how much it had affected him. It would only irritate her to know, but somehow, being able to just lay here and watch her sleep, safe and warm soothed him and allowed sleep to finally claim him as well.

Mary woke up in a bad mood. She'd slept in a weird position, and now her neck was telling her all about it as she tried to stretch.

"Umph." Marshall heard the thud and shot up, straight out of bed.

"What the hell?" He heard Mary's confused question as she lay on the floor, twisted in covers.

"You okay there?" He offered her a hand up, but received a glare in return.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Apparently her mood had not improved with a few hours sleep.

"Helping you up." His hand remained outstretched, face open and devoid of mirth at her predicament.

"Why are you in my room?" She demanded. "In my bed? Didn't the taxpayers of this fine country pay to put you up in your own digs for the night?"

"Technically you fell asleep on my bed." He nodded to his luggage sitting on the cheap motel table. "So I was actually in my bed."

"Oh." She looked around her, then took his hand and pulled herself up. "Sorry about that."

"No worries." He assured her as he picked up the blankets and unwound. "It's about time to get up anyway." He glanced at the clock. "Wanna shower and see if we can find some chow?"

"Don't say 'chow.'" Mary chastised him. "This isn't a wagon train, and you're not a ranch hand."

"Would "grub" suit you more pleasingly, milady?" He made a show of thickening his drawl, and was warmed when she smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "Perhaps you prefer the more colloquial "vittles" to describe the…"

"God, you know what?" Mary slapped his arm. "You really are a dork."

"I aim to please!" He called after her as she grabbed her key and exited his room. "Be ready in forty five."

"I'll be ready before you are!" She hollered over her shoulder as she walked. "Better lighten up on your morning beauty routine there, Gladys. It could take you all morning." She opened her door and walked inside, turning to poke her head back out. "Last one ready's buying! And I feel like pancakes and eggs today."

He met her grin with one of his own and ducked back inside the room. Her mood had improved substantially, and he congratulated himself a bit for being able to bring that change about. Briefly considering dawdling, he remembered that she actually owned him a few meals. He didn't keep track. Not really. Not to make sure she was settled up to the penny with him. He just liked to make sure he didn't owe her too many. She was generally happy when she was eating, and he liked that. He enjoyed seeing her relaxed and pleased, even if it was just because the guy at the taco cart got her order right and added extra guacamole to her burritos. Still, it was good to see her smile again. She was back. He breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever anger she'd directed at him this morning seemed to have diffused, and she was back to insults and calling him girl's names. They were okay. His split decision to remain in the same room worked, and she was in good spirits once more. Well, good spirits for Mary. Some things have to be measured on a relative scale.

He was ready before her, so he knocked on the door and grinned in a way that he knew would annoy her. She stuck her tongue out at him as she let him into her room and went back to fixing her hair. Her own beauty routine was basic. Minimal. And a constant worry to Jinx, he knew, who thought her daughter should try harder. Mary had sat through many a lecture telling her that she couldn't possibly expect to find a man if she didn't try harder. It had really never occurred to Jinx that Mary wasn't trying to find a man. Not a "for keeps, with this ring, I thee wed…and pledge to clean up after and fetch beer for and turn myself into a human baby-making machine" kind of man anyway.

Marshall made himself at home, easing into the cleaner of the two chairs at the table and flipping the TV on to C-SPAN. He watched her reflection in the TV as she carefully combed and – what, curled? –her hair. The attempt would be futile, and they both knew it, but she tried anyway. The humidity and omnipresent rain the Pacific northwest would most certainly ruin any attempt she made at taming her long blonde hair. Grunting in frustration as her hair refused to cooperate, she finally grabbed an elastic band out of the bag, and tossed it up into as neat a ponytail as she could manage. Finishing it off with a quick sheen of hairspray to keep the loose tendrils in place, she grabbed her belt, attached her holster, and turned to face her partner. He was keeping a carefully schooled face, eyes dutifully trained on the TV screen, but he wasn't paying any attention to the house vote being broadcast.

"I'm not spending more than ten bucks on your breakfast." She promised him as he stood.

He just grinned at her, opened the door, and gestured her through.

"I don't know." He caught up with her. "I kind of feel like steak and eggs. Maybe some biscuits and gravy on the side. And home fries. A real steak, too. Twenty two ounce, T-bone…"

"You're getting dry cereal from 7-11 if you keep this up." She warned him. "And I'm not springing for milk."

The banter continued all the way to the diner that Marshall had scoped out on their way to the motel earlier that morning.

* * *

"That's a baby." Mary stated the obvious – well, hissed, really, in Marshall's ear.

"You didn't read the…"

"I read it, smartass." She cut him off. "It said 'and child.' Never said anything about a baby."

Marshall wondered sometimes why Mary claimed to dislike children so much. He'd seen her interact with them in the past, and she was a natural. Perhaps it had something to do with being forced to raise her little sister. Maybe she'd just had enough kids in her life. Raised enough of them. He wondered if he'd feel the same if, rather than being the youngest, he was the oldest. What if he had had to raise his three brothers alone. It wasn't something he could really imagine, no matter how active his imagination was. His family wasn't perfect. Mary knew his family wasn't perfect. Still, compared to hers, his had to look like a fairy tale from the outside. She did seem to understand that his relationship with his father was strained. Ran interference. Stood up for him.

"Earth to Marshall." Mary was snapping her fingers in front of his face to draw his attention back to her. "Come back from the mother ship."

Smiling at her nerd reference, even though it was meant to incite him, he shook his head. "Yes, Mary?"

"Are we gonna do this?" She gestured with her head and made a face, indicating the family waiting nervously inside the conference room.

They'd already been briefed by the officers at the Portland office, had read the threat assessment, researched a bit on their own. They'd spent the last ten or so minutes observing the family from behind the one-way mirrored glass. It was something they liked to do, whenever given the chance. To observe a person when they are unaware of the act of observation- Marshall saw the poetry in it. The science. Too often the act of observation changed the nature of the observed. In this manner, though, unimpeded, he could gain insight into their behavior. Learn how they interact with each other. Mary always took the opportunity to judge whether or not she thought they would stay together. She told him once, after too many shots of tequila, that she could tell these things just by looking. By listening to the way people talk to each other. He had wondered offhandedly what she thought about the way he treated her. Talked to her. What did she read into that? The guys in the department ribbed him at nearly every opportunity about his relationship with Mary. Most were convinced he was sleeping with her. Why else would he keep her around? With her personality? Others were more convinced that she wore the pants in the relationship. Treated him like her personal slave. Her lackey. The rest just took pity on him. He saw the "poor Marshall" looks in their eyes. Heard their whispered rumors and flamed red from the accusations. His manhood was brought into question on more than one occasion, usually after Mary had taken part in some particularly physical bust. Beating the crap out of criminals, even when the occasion called for it, had earned her a bit of a reputation in the Marshal's service. So had her mouth and tendency to solve problems with her fists and feet. Marshall weathered it all, choosing to ignore most of the gossip, defending his partner when he felt her honor was in question, but generally attempting to remain above the fray. He hated the way the guys talked about her. Had even asked for her opinion on the subject once. Her response had been in typical Mary fashion, though. She didn't give a flying rat's ass what the guys thought about her. It was the rest of the statement that had Marshall wondering what she meant, though_. "I only care what…I don't care what they think."_ She'd started to say something, then changed her mind. He wondered periodically if she'd meant to finish by saying _"I only care what you think."_

"Verdict?" He asked before entering the room.

"They're happy together." She assessed begrudgingly. It was always a little hard for her to admit it. The idea was foreign, even still, to her brain. She secretly hated them, all those happy people. Hated the ones that could be content having only each other, even as they walked away from their lives. She wondered what that kind of security would be like. What would it be like to wake up in the morning and just KNOW that you belong to someone? Someone who wouldn't walk out on you or leave you. Someone who always had your back. Your best interests at heart. Your happiness as their…she cut herself off from that line of internal dialogue. No reason to go there. Nothing good would come of it.

"Kid's cute." Marshall mused quietly.

She was, even Mary couldn't deny it. Light brown hair, just starting to curl into ringlets at the tips, blue eyes that sparkled, and precious dimples on each cheek.

"Let's get this over with." Mary pushed passed him and entered the conference room with authority, Marshall trailing close behind her trying to suppress a smile. He secretly loved it when she took charge of things, but appreciated it when she stepped aside and let him have the reins all the same. He knew she'd try to hurry through the paperwork to get away from the happy couple with the beautiful baby girl. Nothing annoyed Mary more than happy families, although Marshall understood that the dislike was really nothing more than barely concealed envy. She'd missed out on so much as a child, and watching two parents, happy together, lovingly dote on their daughter was bound to grate her and dredge up old desires and unmet needs.

Marshall quickly appropriated the child for himself, bouncing her on his knee and making faces at her. Mary rolled her eyes and tried to ignore him as he reduced himself to a nine month old's mental level. The man could entertain a baby, she had to admit, though. It wasn't until she heard him drop his voice low and start telling her a story that started out with _"a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away,"_ that she put her foot down.

"Marshall, give her back." She demanded, the corners of her mouth turning up in spite of her attempts to project a stern countenance. "You can't nerdify the baby before she learns to talk."

"Oh, do you want to hold her?" Lisa offered with a smile, assuming that Mary was jealous of her partner for hogging the baby.

"No." She said forcefully as she pushed a few more papers toward the parents. "Lisa, Ben," she made eye contact with each of them as she returned to her standard spiel. "Are you sure you understand? No contact. Not with your parents. Siblings. Old friends. No one. This has to be a clean break. It's for your safety. We can't protect you if you reach out to the past and try to touch someone."

"We understand." Ben Bradford, now Ben Bailey patted his daughter's back and kissed her cheek. "We just want to keep her safe. As long as we're together, we'll be fine."

Marshall bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling as he watched Mary's eyes roll back in her head a little. She hated sap, and he wondered how she was physically restraining herself from acting on what he knew was her instinct to strangle the man.

Mary groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of her nose as she leaned her head against the window of the government issue SUV. The ride to the motel was impinging on her very last nerve. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe she could take a nap when they got back. Marshall was watching her, she could tell. He glanced at her every couple of minutes with a hint of a frown. She could clearly see his reflection in the window. This sort of thing would have driven her crazy if Raph had been the one checking up on her. She idly wondered why it didn't bother her when Marshall did it. He was allowed to hover. Not too much, but she didn't mind him butting in sometimes, checking up on her. Making sure she was okay. Honestly, she found it oddly refreshing, but she was far too tired to spend too much energy figuring out why. Marshall was just…Marshall. He was her goofy partner. Her caring friend. The one person who knew her best in the world.

Mary stood back and let Marshall give the Bailey's the rules. They'd be staying another night, then driving back the next day. The drive would be long, and most definitely loud, as small children were not known for their ability to handle long periods of time in a car well. Marshall was already planning stops. State parks, rest stops, scenic overlooks. Any opportunity for little Kathleen to play outside in the fresh air. It would save him from watching Mary implode anyway.

Lisa yawned a few times while her husband and Marshall unloaded luggage from the SUV. They wouldn't need too much for the night, but travelling with a baby always complicated things. She was so tired. The yawns didn't go unnoticed, however.

"Would you like us to watch her so you can rest?" Marshall offered politely, ignoring the daggers he knew were being shot his way. Mary would kill him for this.

Lisa gushed her thanks, and shoved the baby in Mary's arms, grateful for a few hours rest. Ben handed the diaper bag to Marshall hesitantly. He hadn't missed the look on the female Marshal's face.

"You guys sure about this?"

"Of course." Marshall soothed, making a face at Mary. She stopped herself just shy of sticking her tongue out at him.

"Be good, Katie." Lisa kissed her daughter on the cheek before heading inside to take a nap.

Marshall noted the way Mary unconsciously shifted the baby closer to her and bounced her up and down. Katie. They hadn't called her that until just now, and he suspected that baby Katie would be getting fine care from his partner. Her surrogate Katie would be doted upon, even if she had to kill him to make sure he never told a soul.

As soon as the motel door was open, Mary shoved Katie into Marshall's arms. "I'm taking a nap." She announced. "This is your thing. You play baby sitter. It was your idea."

Maybe he was wrong. "Come on, Mare." He urged. "We still have to plan the route back to Albuquerque."

"Your idea." She folded her arms across her chest and frowned at him. "You watch her. I don't do babies."

"You were doing just fine before." He countered, curious.

"I don't do babies, and babies don't like me." She insisted, even as she smiled when Katie reached out and grabbed Marshall's collar, tugging it tight with her chubby little hand.

"Come on." He cajoled. "It could be fun."

"Ya know what else is fun?" She countered. "Napping so I don't snap and shoot you."

"Well, hold her for just a minute, will you?" He pleaded. "At least let me use the restroom first."

"Fine." She held out her arms to take Katie from him, and settled the baby against her. Katie reached out and grabbed Mary's long hair, pulling strands of it from her pony tail, and Marshall chuckled as Mary tried to extricate her hair from the baby's grasp.

He took his time in the restroom, not really needing to be in there at all. He brushed his teeth. Rewashed his face. Checked his hair. Organized his toiletries on the counter. It had been a few minutes, and still no yelling was coming from the motel room, so he peeked his head out. Mary was stretched out on the motel bed holding Katie above her as the baby smiled and chortled in glee. She was tired, he noted. But she was also very good with children.

"Your turn, doofus." Mary called to him, hearing the door creak open. "I need that nap."

"You seem to be doing okay." He made sure his tone was even as he grabbed his wallet and keys. "I'm gonna run out and pick up lunch. You want anything special?"

"You're not leaving me here with this." She warned him, sitting up a little, and placing the baby on the bed beside her.

"Relax." He smiled evilly. "I'll just be a few minutes."

"You owe me for this!" Mary hollered angrily, annoyance not even barely concealed.

"I'll get you a sandwich." He grinned as he closed the motel door. She might actually shoot him. It was a real possibility. _"Worth it." _He thought to himself.

* * *

"Mare, I got you a Rueben…" He stopped short, hand still on the door latch as his heart literally stopped beating in his chest. Mary had been tired. She'd barely slept the past few days. He just hadn't expected this. Mary was passed out, laying on her back on his bed, propped up against the pillows. With Katie asleep on top of her, snuggled close, wrapped in Mary's arms. And she said she was bad with babies. Mentally reminding himself to breath, he carefully walked in and shut the door quietly. There was a jar of baby food open on the table, the diaper bag was open. She'd fed her, changed her, and put them both down for a nap. It was just too precious for words. Pillows were piled up on both sides, barricading the baby in should she roll off or wake up first.

He dropped the bag on the table, and walked to the side of the bed, unsure of what to do. Reaching out, he tried to take Katie from her, but she tightened her arms around the baby, murmured something he didn't catch, and pressed her lips to the little girl's head in a sleepy kiss. Marshall had to close his eyes. This was the side of Mary that she never let anyone see. He'd never witnessed it, that's for sure. This maternal, tender Mary. He'd guessed that this side of her existed. Had on occasion wondered what kind of mother she'd be. He'd seen her with older children, but never a baby. Never seen her this affectionate, even in her sleep. The things this woman did to him. He stood, dumfounded, while she slept. Peaceful. Relaxed. This was the happiest he'd seen her in months. He'd been right about this. Baby Katie was well cared for in his absence. Smiling tenderly at them, he sat down at the table and watched while he ate his sandwich and most of Mary's chips. If only he'd thought to bring a camera. This would be such good blackmail later. At least she was getting some sleep, he reasoned. It would make her more agreeable.

* * *

A/N: Shoot. Now I need a nap. I'm jealous, tired, achy, and irritated with my school. Stupid left and doesn't know what their right hand is doing. Grrrr. Must stay conscious. Must study. Must...yawn. Maybe later. Nap now.

Hope you enjoyed. Hope I caught most of the grammar/spelling mistakes. I've had a headache for the past ten days, and it's showing no signs of letting up any time soon. No amount of excedrin is helping, although I am looking rather bruised all over. Perhaps I should let up on the NSAIDs for a few days...

The blue button? Go ahead. It'd make my day. Really. No sarcasm there. I need a pick me up.

Hugs.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Two in one week! Or close to it. I suppose it is technically Sunday, so being the first day of the week, it may not count. Close enough! Here's another chapter! It's been bright and sunny here in fricking New England, and I've been stuck inside the entire time studying. Boo! So, to reward myself for working hard, I got to write a little more. Shorter chapter this time, sorry. Time is pressing, and this was a good stopping point. More next time, I promise._

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A knock on the door startled Marshall from his reverie. He shook his head as he rushed to peep through the window, easing the curtain aside gently with the butt of his Glock and trying to stay out of sight. Lisa, he sighed. He'd told her to stay in the room.

Opening the door, he pulled her inside quickly and tried to shush her as he shut the door quietly.

"I just wanted to check on Katie." She whispered.

He gestured to the sleeping forms on the bed. "Still napping."

Lisa smiled tenderly and turned her face, now refreshed from her own nap, to met his. "I wouldn't have figured her for the type."

Her assessment was a bit of a surprise to Marshall. She'd seemed so oblivious before.

"Well," he murmured and cast a glance at his slumbering partner. "She's not quite what she seems."

"I can see that." Lisa observed as she moved back toward the door. "You'll bring her back when she wakes up?"

"Of course." Marshall walked her back to her room. "And stay inside. Call me if you need, but don't leave the motel room." He shook his head and walked the few steps back to his room. Truthfully, he could use a nap as well, but he knew he'd never be able to fall asleep. His thoughts drifted back as he tried to remember what he'd been thinking about before Lisa interrupted him. Shaking his head, he thought hard. Nothing. The click from the door closing was louder than he'd intended, and when he turned to check on Mary he was met with two blue eyes and a sleepy, slobbery grin. Katie had awakened, and he had to smile back as she swiped at her face with a chubby hand and started squirming. Mary felt the movement, and he watched as she struggled into wakefulness. She smoothed a hand over Katie's hair, kissed her unconsciously, and patted the baby's back while she reentered the land of the living.

Meeting Marshall's eyes, she frowned at him as she sat up. "Wipe the dopey look off your face there, numbnuts."

"What look?" He held his hands up innocently. "I'm just a man. Eating your chips. Doing my job."

"My ass." She muttered, and then groaned. "Great. I need a shower. Kid drooled all over me."

Marshall bit his tongue, but couldn't stop the smile. It was so like Mary. She was never comfortable showing affection around people. He'd be willing to bet money that when he was out picking up lunch that baby had received more kisses than she'd get in the entire next day – and that was saying something. Both Lisa and Ben were very affectionate parents.

"Something to say there?" Mary challenged him, still not putting Katie down, rather shifting her to one hip in a manner that made Marshall's mind wander, images flitting through his brain like movies. Mary. A baby. Their baby. Mary carrying their baby on her hip just like that.

"Hmmm?" He met her eyes distractedly. "Oh. No. Nothing. Just…" He hesitated. "You say you're bad with babies. It doesn't really look like it to me."

"Whatever." She reached an arm out, and he braced for a slap or a half hearted punch, but it never came. Instead of hitting him, she grabbed a diaper from the bag. "Could you bring me those wipes? I think we've got a situation here."

She put Katie down on the towel she'd laid out on the bed earlier in a makeshift changing station, and held out her hand for the wipes.

"Thanks. Now shoo." She waved him off.

"Shoo?"

"Yeah. Shoo. I'm gonna change her diaper." She made a face at him. Could he be that dense?

"I understand that. Why do I have to…" Then he understood. "Okay. I'm shooing."

He turned on the television and kept his eyes on the screen, but he wasn't paying attention. His mind was fully tuned into Mary as she spoke in soft, soothing tones to the cooing baby. She blew kisses and raspberries, and he was fairly certain she'd bent down to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Okay, can you take her for a second?" Mary's voice carried over the TV and his own internal dialogue. "I need to wash my hands and dispose of this." She held up a dirty diaper and made a disgusted face.

"Sure thing." He swung his long legs off the other bed and scooped up a giggling Katie. "I told Lisa I'd bring her back when she woke up anyway." Truthfully, he didn't want to take her back to her parents. He was enjoying this too much. But the charade was just that: a charade. She wasn't his. Wasn't theirs. Mary wasn't even his. They were friends. Partners. And nothing more.

"Okay." Mary leaned into him for just a second, and Marshall stilled in confusion until she dropped a kiss on Katie's chubby cheek. "Bye, munchkin."

She walked out of the hotel room, leaving a stunned Marshall holding a baby that was only just starting to get fussy. As Katie's fusses edged on full on cries, he grabbed the diaper bag, shoved all her things back in it, and knocked on Ben and Lisa's door.

"I believe this belongs to you." He called over the screaming as Ben reached out to comfort his crying daughter. "She ate, napped, got a clean diaper, and now…" He gestured to the red-faced child screaming bloody murder. "Not sure, but I said I'd bring her back when she woke up." Did he just fail some sort of babysitting exam? Was it poor form to bring back a child to the parents if the kid was competing with that girl from the exorcist for loudest holler?

Mary was gone when he got back to the room, and he could only figure that she'd gone to find a dry shirt. The one Katie had napped on was rather moist, not that he'd ever admit to peeking. She'd been wearing a white shirt, and the drool had made strategic parts of it rather…transparent. The view had been a good one, but Mary would likely kill him for it later.

Half an hour later, Marshall had maps sprawled out over the bed, sipping a soda, and scribbling down what appeared to be the best route for them to take back to Albuquerque. He figured it would be best to stay along main roads to afford them the most opportunities to stop. Although, if he detoured a little, he could make the drive much more scenic, which could be superior in the end. Parks were probably preferable to rest stops, and he wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd spent time in the Pacific northwest. He heard a key insert into the electronic key card mechanism on his door and look up with a smile to greet Mary as she entered his room.

"Good thing you're not naked." She deadpanned as she shoved some maps aside and flopped beside him on the bed smelling freshly of the shower. "How many days is this going to take?" She questioned him when she spied his handwritten itinerary. She liked to razz him about his lack of high-tech saavy when it came to these things. She'd just plug the destination into MapQuest and let it do the work for her, but she knew her partner liked to buddy up with his maps. He seemed to enjoy charting courses and plotting directions. She secretly wondered if he would have been happier as a sailor.

"About thirty hours if we take this route." He traced a line with his index finger. "More if we detour through Denver, less if we go straight through this way."

"Less it is." Mary stated definitively.

"Have you ever travelled with an infant?" He raised his eyebrows at her suspiciously.

"No." She scoffed. "I know better. Have you?"

"Plenty." He had. "I have a passel of nieces and nephews." He reminded her. "I when I lived closer, we'd all go up to Big Bend for a week every summer." Those were simpler times. "You need to stop a lot with kids. They can't handle it."

"How often is 'often'?" She queried.

"Every hour or so." He shrugged.

"For how long?"

"Couple minutes."

She sighed and rolled her eyes in irritation. "Fine. How much time does that add?"

He wondered why she was in such a big hurry to get back to New Mexico. She'd been so excited to leave.

"Couple hours a day, I'd say." He frowned, trying to do the worst case scenario math. "Three or four days, tops."

"Jesus." She muttered to no one in particular.

She rolled over onto her back, moving the atlases onto her stomach as she went so she didn't wrinkle them. She knew how Marshall hated his maps to be folded incorrectly. Once, when they'd first been partnered together, they'd had to drive back from Minnesota. She'd been different then. More brash. More impatient with him. He was taking too long, in her opinion, and she'd grabbed his map and crushed it, wrinkling it in her haste to get the hell out of the boonies. She hadn't missed his pained expression, though, or the tension that immediately burned between them the rest of the drive back. She'd felt so guilty that she'd purchased him another one at the next gas station, contritely delivering it with a mumbled, but very sincere apology. He felt they'd made a sort of breakthrough that day. Mary had actually taken the time to realize that her actions had hurt him somehow. Even though she didn't understand what the big deal was, she'd quickly done what she could to rectify her actions. Since then she was always careful. She never touched his maps. Never wrinkled them. If she had to whip one out, she spent careful time studying the way it folded, the direction of the creases, while she was putting it away. Marshall noticed her care, and it never failed to warm his heart and remind him of that ratty excuse for a gas station and the way she'd blushed when she handed him the replacement map. It was such a small thing, really. A couple of dollars. A token, if even that. But it symbolized the real beginning of their friendship. He still had that map. It was safely tucked away at home in the desk of his study, kept in a manila folder labeled simply "Mary." Whenever he was feeling particularly sour toward her, whenever she was in a fouler mood than usual, he'd get out that map. Trace the crisp edges, and remember her face that day.

He kept all the trinkets she'd given him over the years. Just things, really. Some of it had value, some of it not. Birthday presents. Christmas presents. She'd been superficial the first few years, unsure of where they stood as friends or partners. The past several years had been more elaborate. A copy of _The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire_ (all three volumes). A rather expensive bottle of Scotch that he'd mentioned liking in passing one afternoon on a long drive. He felt as though he didn't need a gift this year for his birthday. The wedding being called off truly was gift enough in itself, but he was confident that she had something planned. It was never a big show. She wasn't the surprise party kind of girl. She hated the spotlight, and knew he did as well. She was always quiet on his birthday, little things throughout the day. A Danish in the morning with coffee. She'd spring for lunch. After work, he could count on her showing up at his house with an assortment of food from restaurants he knew she'd never visit on her own. They eat, sometimes in silence, sometimes not, then she'd shyly hand him a box or bag – always wrapped neatly. The only time he could truly count on seeing Mary blush was his birthday or Christmas when she handed him his gift, although the past few years she'd blushed when he handed her a gift as well. This year, his Christmas gift had been a signed copy of _Dune_. Only Mary would have thought to do that for him. She'd tease him, for certain, about his penchant for science fiction and nerdom in general, but she always managed to peg him just right. She knew exactly what he liked, and she held nothing back when it came to giving it to him. These tender moments of Mary were saved and remembered, and they got him through the harder, drought times when she was harder to be around. She cared about him. That much he never doubted. He just wondered how much.

"How're you feeling?" He asked her, making sure he didn't make eye contact. He knew how she hated hovering.

"Better." She admitted, kicking her feet under the pillows and staring at the ceiling.

He just nodded, grateful for an honest answer. She looked better. More relaxed.

Neither one spoke for several minutes while he finished writing up his desired route. Once he was done, and all his things put neatly away did he look directly at her again. She was lost in thought, he could tell. The subject of those thoughts was indiscernible to him, but he figured it wasn't good. Her jaw was clenched, and there was that telltale line beside her eyes that told him she was upset.

"Wanna tell me about it?" He asked quietly as he lay down beside her.

"Not really." Her voice was strained, and he knew she wasn't feeling as well as she'd have him think.

He was quiet for a moment, searching for something to say. Finally, he broke the silence. "Did you get the memo about the course at Quantico?"

"Hmm?" She looked at him questioningly, then remembered. "Oh. Yeah. I got it."

"You going?"

She shrugged in response. She really hadn't put that much thought into it. She hated the Feds, truth be told, and did not relish the thought of spending a week at G-Man Central having some arrogant kid in a cheap suit tell her how to do her job.

"I'm thinking about going." Marshall offered. "It could be interesting."

The edges of her mouth turned up a little. She knew he couldn't resist the opportunity to learn something.

"I'll think about it."

Marshall let it rest, knowing she wasn't in a talking mood right now. If he knew Mary, and he truly did, she'd go if he went. The prospect of spending the week doing the job alone would be enough compulsion to send her across the country with him. He hadn't missed the way her eyes lit up the last time he'd returned from a trip on his own. It could be interesting, he reasoned. But it would be more interesting if she came with him.

"Are you going to eat your sandwich?" He finally asked her.

"Hmm." She considered it briefly. "Go ahead. I'm not that hungry."

"I'll save it for you." He offered. "Or would you rather have something else?" It was unlike Mary to turn down food. The rift between she and Katie must be bothering her more than he'd initially thought.

"No, I'm good." She tried to smile, but didn't have the energy. Maybe it was rain dampening her spirits.

"What do you want for dinner?" He tried again, head turned to study her as they rested side by side on the motel bed.

"Anything good here?" She asked absently.

"There's a good Japanese place downtown." He offered. "They have sushi, but other stuff, too. Authentic."

"Sounds good." She didn't really care.

"Steak?" No response. "Mexican?" Still nothing. "Male stripper?"

"If you want. Sure. And hell, no." She finally answered, her smirk matching his own. "I do listen, you know."

"I never doubted." He assured her, then propped himself up on his elbows to watch as she rose from the bed.

"I'm going to…" She trailed off. "I'll be in my room."

He nodded and watched her leave, calling to her before she shut the door all the way. "Mare."

"Yeah?" She stuck her head back inside.

"If you need anything." He knew he didn't need to finish. The genuine smile she gave him told him she knew. And she appreciated it.

* * *

_A/N: That's all for now. I hope you enjoyed. If you did, feel free to say so…_


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: I don't own iPod, or any of the other brands I mention in this story. I don't work for them. I'm not using this as product placement, and receive no compensation, monetary or otherwise, for their mention. Just trying to be historically relevant. Other than that, thanks for the reviews and support! Reviews are like chocolate, comfortable shoes, and jeans that fit: you can never have too many (and kudos to anyone that can place that slightly paraphrased reference.) This was another transition chapter that I hate writing. The next one will be better. More substantial. But it's two in the morning, I have class in the morning, and I'm going to sleep now. Also, I'm considering building an arc or obtaining some sort of life raft or other flotation device. It rains every fricking day in New England. What is with that?_

* * *

Mary clenched her jaw and took a slow, deep breath as the screaming turned into wailing. Katie had been hollering for a good twenty minutes, and she couldn't find a place to park the car so her parents could appropriate appease her. She could see Marshall watching her as she tried to calm herself. Yelling at the baby wouldn't help matters any, she knew, but the volume was leaning on her last nerve. Lisa and Ben ineffectively tried what they could do, but it was to no avail. Katie would not be consoled, and apparently had decided to let everyone know all about it.

Marshall spotted a familiar blue sign alerting them to a rest stop in twenty three miles. He honestly wasn't sure if Mary would last that long, and the screaming was starting to get even to him. He pointed to the sign to make sure Mary saw it, and heard her whispered "thank God" in response. She was showing all the telltale signs of having a headache. Her eyes were pinched, her shoulders were hunched, and she was clenching her jaw. Okay, the jaw thing wasn't necessarily indicative of a headache. Mary clenched her jaw a lot, but this time he had a feeling that it was related, and the noise level in the SUV was most definitely not helping her right now. He kept hoping that Katie would wear herself out and fall asleep. His nephews did that sometimes when they were little, but this small girl apparently had stamina.

"Don't be closed. Don't be closed. Don't be closed." Mary muttered quietly as she approached the off ramp for the rest stop. "Yes! Finally." She jerked the SUV into the exit lane and pulled up short in the first parking space she came to, ripping the keys out of the ignition and thrusting them at her partner as she ran to escape the car. Her escape was short-lived, however, and she knew it had to be. After only a few short seconds of peace, she walked back to the vehicle trying to compose herself. She still had a job to do. Lisa was changing Katie's diaper, and Marshall was saying something to her.

Forcing her brain to focus through the fuzz that had settled in a while ago, she met his eyes with a questioning look of her own.

"You okay?" He took a step closer and spoke softly so no one else could hear.

"You were saying?" Change the subject. Smooth.

"You'll stay with her?" The concern had not abated, but he was willing to play along for a while.

"Of course, doofus." She smacked his arm, annoyed. She DID know how to do her job.

The men headed off in search of restrooms, and Mary tried to sidle herself as far away from the hollering as she thought she safely could. A lone tree, oak or maple, she wasn't in the mood to remember, served as a back support as she sunk onto the cool ground. This whole trip had been a glorious mistake. She wasn't cut out for babies or babysitting. This just wasn't her. She could handle unruly criminals. Rebellious witnesses. Alcoholic mothers, cheating boyfriends, and screwed up baby sisters. She could hit a moving target at twenty paces, and run a nine minute mile. She could keep up with the boys in a drinking contest, and outdrink many. Sitting quietly while a small child tried to burst her tympanic membrane was never going to top the list of skills she had mastered. She didn't even want it to.

The silence penetrated her brain slowly, and Mary looked up in surprise when she realized that the screaming had stopped. Whatever the problem had been, Lisa had fixed it. Mary realized in that moment that if she swung that way, she'd totally kiss the woman for making the quiet happen.

Marshall was silent as he approached her, knowing from experience or instinct that she wasn't in a talking mood. He sat next to her on the ground and reached a hand out hesitantly. He waited until he saw her slight single nod, then brushed her hair over her shoulder and used his fingers to massage the ropey muscles in the back of her neck. What he wouldn't give to be able to do this properly. He knew she carried her tension in her neck and shoulders. Over the years, he hadn't missed the way she'd work her back or roll her head around to ease the tightening there. Once in a while he could get her to sit still enough for him to work out some of the kinks, but he knew there were more.

She emitted a soft grunt of appreciation as his fingers worked a particularly tight spot on her neck, but it turned into a groan as Lisa approached holding Katie out to her like an offering.

"Can you watch her? I really have to pee."

Marshall held out his arms to take the small charge, but Mary pushed to her feet.

"Give her to me." She ordered, sweeping the red-faced child into her embrace. "I have to go with you, anyway." Truthfully, she needed to avail herself of the facilities soon or she thought she'd blow a valve, but that looked like it wasn't going to happen for a while. They were two days into this god-forsaken trip, and hitchhiking back to Albuquerque was starting to look like a viable option for Mary. Katie sniffed and hiccupped in her arms, and she frowned down at the baby.

"Yeah. Go ahead." She muttered tiredly. "Keep it up. Maybe we'll all go deaf."

"Okay!" Lisa called brightly as she marched out of the lady's room before Mary could hand off the baby and get in line herself. "What a relief."

Marshall had moved to a picnic table under a group of trees, and Ben had taken up residence on top of a table a short distance away. Lisa left the baby with Mary as she made her way over to her husband. The growl Mary emitted was audible to Marshall even from a few feet away.

"Why do I always end up babysitting?" She spat at him as she stood Katie on the table and knelt on the bench.

"Cause you're so warm and fuzzy." Marshall teased. "Just brimming over with sunshine and love."

"Cork it." She warned him, even while she held each of Katie's hands in hers and helped her balance on her little baby feet. Katie took a few hesitant steps, and Mary grinned involuntarily. "How old are they when they walk?" She tried to think back and remember when Brandi started walking, but she couldn't. The memory just wasn't there. She'd had too much to do to catalog when her baby sister had taken her first steps.

"Around a year." Marshall shrugged, heart warming while his partner played with the baby. "Some earlier. Some a little later. It just depends."

"She wants to walk." Mary observed absently. "She's trying to stand."

Katie's mood had improved, her smiles and giggles now only interrupted by the occasional hiccup. Her smile brought a matching one to Mary's lips as well, Marshall noted as he moved to sit on the table and tickle Katie with one finger.

"It won't be long." He agreed. "She'll get the hang of it soon."

And older couple walked past, hand in hand, and commented to themselves on what a beautiful family they were, and once again Marshall's heart skipped beats. If this was going to continue, he thought with irony, he was going to need an antiarrhythmic. He watched Mary tenderly for a moment as she played and made faces at the baby girl in her arms. He wanted this. God, he wanted this. Marshall was a man who yearned for a family of his own. A wife. A kid. Hell, even a dog and a fence if necessary. But this. This woman. This woman who drove him crazy. Irritated him. Mercilessly teased him. Made him do her paperwork, and generally ran him ragged. Yet, she was the one he wanted. Even with no kids, he closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, even with no kids, to come home to her at the end of every day. To cook dinner and wash dishes. To fall asleep every night and know she'd be there in the morning when he awoke. That was this man's definition of heaven. He'd never considered a child until a few days ago. She'd never exhibited signs that she wanted one. He knew they got on her nerves. The screaming was bound to drive anyone to distraction after a while, but this. Here. Now. Tender Mary, hands carefully wrapped around Katie's torso, holding her as she bounced her up and down. This Mary he could easily see chasing after their child. Cleaning up scraped knees. Sitting beside him in bleachers cheering at a swim meet or a dance recital in an auditorium. This Mary was softer. And even more beautiful than he'd ever dreamed she could be.

"How's your head?" He asked quietly as Katie played with his fingers.

"Fine." She thrust her jaw up a little, and he saw her masseter muscles tighten. That was all he was going to get out of her for now.

"Mind if I drive?"

"Knock yourself out." She shrugged. She really didn't feel like driving anyway. She'd been at it for six hour today already. It would be great to just lay back, close her eyes, stuff some cotton in her ears, and tune out the world. If only.

"Ready to get going?"

She stood rather than answer him, and so he eased himself off the table and watched as she walked over to Lisa and Ben. Katie was sitting securely on her hip again, and Mary unconsciously shifted as she walked, leaving Katie a place to sit securely. He watched the sway, the way the sun hit her windblown blonde hair. This trip might be the death of him. It was one thing to see her at work all day. She was all kick-ass and rough and tumble at work. Swearing at criminals one moment, then comforting witnesses the next. She was different since her cousin showed up. More quiet. Introspective. Really, though, she'd been more introspective since Ramirez broke off the engagement, but more so since the arrival of her diminutive relative. Now the baby. He caught himself staring right before she turned around, arms free of their warm cargo now that Katie was back with her parents. She made a face at him and motioned him toward the car. There was the Mary he knew and loved. Would she ever let him love the other Mary, too?

* * *

"We'll be by later with some groceries." Mary promised as she backed out the front door.

"Thank you." Ben shook Marshall's hand heartily. "Thank you for everything."

"Take care of them." Marshall's gaze landed on Lisa and the beautiful baby girl asleep in her arms. It had been a long drive, and they were all grateful to be in Albuquerque again. "This is a good chance for you, you know? You can start over. Give that little girl a good life."

"I will." Ben promised. "I'm not going to screw this up."

"Good." Marshall turned to Mary, but her eyes were elsewhere. He followed her gaze, and landed on Katie. Her face was sad, and he knew he needed to get her out of there. "All set?" He reached out and touched her arm lightly.

"Think so." She smiled at him crookedly, and he almost believed that she was fine. "So, you call me if you need anything. Really. Day or night. You're not on your own here. Anything you need, that's my job, and I'm happy to do it."

Mary never added "happy to do it" on the end of that speech, Marshall noted. Was it just the baby?

"Thank you, Mary." Lisa took a step closer, and Mary reached out and stroked Katie's back lovingly.

"Hey, it's my job." She smiled at each of them, then turned and stepped out of the apartment, pausing to wait for Marshall to follow.

"Wanna grab a drink after groceries?" He bumped into her on purpose, and she had to quick step to stay on the sidewalk.

"I just want a long, warm shower." Her eyes slipped closed for a second when she said "shower," and Marshall felt his stomach…and south of it…tighten in response.

It wasn't that late. Seven o'clock in the evening. Neither one had eaten dinner, and he wasn't willing to give up that easily.

"I can bring over dinner while you shower." He offered, not really wanting to go home to his empty house. Alone.

"And beer." That was Mary's way of agreeing, and Marshall smiled as she walked around to the driver seat. "Let's get some groceries!" She grinned at him, and he noticed that for the first time in a few days, the smile went all the way to her eyes.

* * *

"Inspectors." Stan greeted them Monday morning. "How was the transfer?"

"Everyone's tucked in tight." Mary sipped her coffee and rifled through some files on her desk.

Stan made eye contact with Marshall, but the taller man just shrugged. He thought he knew what was bothering Mary, but he'd be damned if he was going to divulge her confidence to anyone.

"So, uh…" He started again. "Your witnesses…"  
"The Bailey's." Mary supplied without her usual snark.

"Right. The Bailey's. How are they liking Albuquerque?" That wasn't really the question, and everyone knew it.

"They won't be a problem. Don't worry." Mary looked at Marshall for affirmation, and he nodded.

"Easy peasy, chief." Marshall assured him. "They're your basic wrong place, wrong time happy couple. I don't anticipate them being a security risk." He considered adding in something about their daughter just to tease Mary, but thought better of it at the last moment. The last thing he wanted was to make Mary self conscious around him. The fact that she trusted him enough to put her guard down and let herself fall head over heels for that precious little girl told him more about the state of their relationship than any actual conversation ever could have. _"Mom was right."_ He thought to himself, and not for the first time. _"Actions really do speak louder than words."_

"So, Inspectors…" Stan trailed off again. Mary was worrying him. She was being quiet. He'd always thought he'd love it if she was quiet. Prefer it, even. But now, it was just unsettling. Maybe her rants had become a compass of sorts by which he could view the direction of the world. "Mary. Marshall." He tried again. "I assume by now you've read the memo regarding the interforce law enforcement seminar."

He paused, and Marshall nodded, then gestured between himself and Mary to tell him that they both had indeed read the aforementioned memo. Clearing his throat, Stan started again. "And I am assuming that in the spirit of interdepartmental cooperation, you two will be eagerly attending and spreading your warmth and expertise among the many fine law enforcement communities of this country."

Mary choked on her coffee a little and turned her head, and Stan felt that familiar knot in his stomach along with something else…comfort, maybe? "Stan, are you seriously telling me that you expect me…us…to go make nice with the Feds and all their little mignons just because some baboon in a suit decides that we don't work well together? Why don't you just have us all hold hands and sing kumbaya? It'd be about as effective, and a hell of a lot less painful for all of us."

"I think the larger issue here is," Marshall interjected. "That Mary doesn't do "nice" or "warm." She's more like a cactus, if you think about it."

"Gee, thanks, asshole." Mary called from across the office.

"Anytime." Marshall assured her before continuing. "With Mary, it's not so much nice and warm, it's more bruised and bleeding. Maybe a little crying thrown in for effect, especially if you leave her in a room full of feebees unattended. And you may want to inform them to have a medic on hand to perform the testicular reattachments after she hands them their family jewels on Styrofoam plates."

"Aww, Marshall. Give me some credit." Mary joked. "I wouldn't waste Styrofoam. It's not biodegradable."

"You are interested in the environment." He loved this. The banter. The teasing. It felt normal. Was that a problem?

"Ah, Inspectors," Stan breathed. "I've been remiss. I didn't mean to imply that I was asking if you were going." He let the statement hang unfinished.

"Jesus, Stan." Mary pushed past him. "Do you hate us that much? Didn't your mother ever hug you or something?"

"Play nice." Stan said sternly

"Mary doesn't play well with others, Stan!" Marshall called. "You know that."

"How much is going to cost me?" Mary grumbled angrily.

"Marshal's service is picking up the tab, you just have to chip in for lodging. There are dorms, though they may have filled up already."

"I hate dorms." Mary grunted as she logged onto her computer to register. "Always remind me of college."

"And the debauchery therein, no doubt." Marshall supplied.

"Sure. Whatever." Then she looked at him. "Of course I'm betting my dorm room was a hell of a lot more fun than yours. Did you take your action figures with you to college? I bet you never even brought a girl back to your room."

"I…" He didn't want to finish. To take the bait and defend himself would only fuel Mary's fire. "I'm ignoring you now."

"Seriously, Marshall." She was sitting on his desk now. "How many. Give me a number?"

"A number?" He played dumb, even as his voice threatened to crack. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with Mary. Ever.

"Yeah. A number. If you were such a lady's man in college, then give me a number. How many?"

"How many what?" There WAS wiggle room here. She could be talking about anything.

"How many girls did you bring to your room? How many girls got lucky on your Superman sheets?"

He took a deep breath. They were not having this conversation here. Or ever, if he could help it. "Blue." Was his cryptic reply.

"Blue? Blue is not a number, numbnuts." She was leaning toward him now, and he knew that if he just turned his head a few degrees the view would improve substantially.

"Blue is a color." He agreed. "I had blue sheets in college. Two pairs. Navy and royal."

"Still waiting." Her voice was breathy in his ear, and moist vapor washed over the pinna and made him clench to control a shiver.

"Mary, I don't…" Thank god. Her phone rang. He knew he wasn't off the hook for good. She'd bring it back up, probably at the most inopportune time, too. That was just Mary. She took some sort of delight in making him blush. Then again, he enjoyed making her blush as well. They both just used such different tactics…

* * *

"I hate Virginia." Mary muttered the following Sunday as they waited in line at the desk for the rental car. Her hair was starting to curl at the tips. Marshall loved it. It made her look…more innocent. Like she hadn't seen so much. Been through as much. He wondered if she'd ever really been innocent. If that was a luxury she'd ever been afforded in her life. "Fricking humidity."

She whipped out her credit card to pay for the rental car since she'd called to make the reservation, but Marshall closed his hand over hers.

"Let me." He urged quietly. He knew she was buried under bills right now.

Ordinarily Mary would protest, but something in Marshall's eyes told her to just go with it. Let him do something for her. Be good to her. She watched closely as his eyes softened with relief and something else when she nodded in relent.

"Do you know where we're going?" He asked her as they stowed their luggage in the trunk. She hadn't sprung for GPS, yet another sign that she was worried about money.

"Just figured you'd already memorized the layout to the entire county." She shrugged. "Didn't want to be redundant."

"I did not." He stated flatly, then rummaged in his carryon. "But I did bring a portable GPS."

Her bright smile melted him a little. Right on the edge in that one place that was hard to get to. Her smile always made him melt. Not her snarky smile. Not her cocky smile. Her real, genuine smile. Mary probably hadn't had much need for that smile in her past, he'd realized a while ago. Legitimate happiness sometimes seemed a little foreign to her, even as she displayed it. Her eyes lit up like sunshine, and then, sometimes, there was this look of confusion. Like she didn't understand the emotion herself, even though she was capable of expressing it. There was so much about Mary's past that pained Marshall, and he had a feeling that if he knew the whole, ugly story that he'd have to be sedated. Then again, if she ever did tell him the whole story, he'd steeled himself already. He'd have to stay. He'd have to listen and be there for her in whatever way she'd let him. He'd have to suck it up, ignore his better sense, and keep his hands off her. Not hug her. Not hold her close to him. Not squeeze her tight in an effort to clean all the pain and ugly from her psyche. He'd probably have to settle for drunken musings on her life, and clumsy pats on the arm. That was what she'd most likely allow him, if anything. He wondered if she ever thought about her past sober. He'd had a friend in college that could only deal with his childhood if he was drunk. The haze of ethanol made the pain easier to bear. Dulled the cut of it somewhat.

Maybe that's why Mary only drank occasionally. She could drink him under the table, for certain, but there was a method to her madness. Drink only occasionally to get comfortably relaxed. He'd seen her chosen method of pain relief, too. Tequila would work. Or whiskey. Or beer. But the trick was to drink fast. She didn't draw it out. She'd done ten shots in forty minutes once, and he'd scraped her off the floor an hour later. He'd held her hair for her as she knelt beside the toilet to empty her stomach two hours after that. And for the next two and a half he'd gently wiped her forehead with a cool cloth, handed her cups of water to sip. Gum to chew to clean out her mouth. And a shoulder to lean on when he knew the tears couldn't come. She'd slept most of the next day, and that had been fine. They'd been at his house, so he just left her in the bed he'd struggled to get her into. He hadn't exactly been completely sober himself, but he knew when Mary was drinking hard that he had to slow down. Keep his wits about him. She did the same for him, and had definitely been the one to take care of his hangovers once in a while over the years. He didn't mind it when they drank together. His crowning embarrassment was having her drive him home from a bar after an evening of drinking alone. The thought that he'd reduced himself to Jinx's level grated him and left him raw on the inside. That and the thought that somehow he shouldn't have been drinking without her anyway. He was a man with ritual. Order. Discipline. They drank together. To forget or to celebrate or just because beer was good with pizza. They did things together. But only SOME things. Only some things.

"Turn left." The GPS beeped at him, and he steered the car onto the FBI compound with a shared grimace. They both really hated the Feds.

* * *

_A/N: Must sleep now. Feel free to stay awake and review, though. Really. Unless you actually have nothing nice to say. If that is the case, then be a dear and feel free to be polite enough to not say anything at all, and I'll feel free to do the same if I'm not a huge fan of your work. Merci beaucoup._


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Here is chapter nine. I borrowed the characters for my own amusement, but promise to return them unscathed when I'm finished. I would like to extend a warm thank you to all who generously write the kind reviews. I appreciate the time you take to write them. Reviews brighten my day more than they probably should, so if you don't mind, feel free to keep them coming! Thanks to everyone who's still reading, too. I'm always a little astounded when people read my stuff. Thanks again. Here's the improved, extended chapter nine. _

* * *

Mary fiddled with her luggage as she waited in line to check in. She'd already had to bite her tongue to keep from making some kid in the hallway cry when he annoyed her. The truth was, he wasn't that annoying, she was just in THAT bad a mood. Marshall had whispered _"play nice"_ in her ear when he saw her steaming, so she'd just shut her mouth and moved on. His soft _"good girl"_ made her eyes roll as they followed the cheap paper arrows towards the desk. Apparently it had never occurred to the feds that if they are planning on having three or four hundred people check in at once it might be appropriate to send more than one moron to staff the desk. She shared her thoughts with Marshall, who chuckled and rubbed her back affectionately for a short while.

"All right, Mary Sunshine." His voice was low, but he was smiling at her. He removed his hand, and Mary was surprised to discover that she missed its warmth. There was a cool spot on her back now where his hand had been.

Marshall checked them in, a cautionary hand on Mary's forearm while he dealt with the bureaucratic inefficiencies. She took the opportunity to scan the room, praying she didn't find anyone she recognized. Anonymity was a blessing, and that was a lesson she'd learned the hard way. She wasn't quite certain she could handle seeing Agent Asshole O'Connor, and she was still conflicted about Faber. The coast appeared clear, and Marshall heard as she let out the breath she'd been holding in a long, slow exhale. His brain had already put it all together, and while she'd been ranting in line in an effort to appear as much like herself as possible given the circumstances, he'd scoped out the place before her. He was going to have to keep her close, just in case, so he could run interference if necessary. Or so she could. He wasn't at all certain that he could be responsible for his actions if they happened upon O'Connor. There were very few people in the world that Marshall just plain hated. He considered himself a relatively peaceful man. Didn't hold grudges. Quick to forgive. Readily extend the benefit of the doubt. But not to that particular piece of human crap. His sister in law would call O'Connor a boil on the butt of humanity, and he was inclined to agree. As for Faber, the mere thought made Marshall's blood run a few degrees colder in his veins. He saw the sleazy man as competition, and he was onto the agent's tricks. He would use Mary. Tell her what he figured she wanted to hear. Give big gifts and make grand gestures because he'd never bother to get to know her. And because she was Mary, and because deep inside her, her heart was a little shattered, and as much as she'd kick your ass for saying otherwise, he knew that she desperately wanted – no, needed someone to try to fill the void. She tried so hard to feel whole again, and Marshall had a good enough read on Faber to know that he would not fill any holes. He would only use for her his own benefit, and leave in his wake holes even larger, shattered even more as she learned once again not to trust. He'd worked too hard to give her up like that.

"Your room key." He handed Mary the lanyard with the key, key chain, and building swipe card on it. "And your packet."

She took the items and squared her shoulders, but hesitated a moment before speaking. "Let's get going then."

He followed behind her, scanning the crowd as they went. Each O'Connor and Faber-free step lifted the lead weight in his stomach a bit. But only a bit. Quantico was a big place, and each of the dreaded men were no doubt more familiar with it than he. Maybe they should have stayed in hotels. Away from the fray and the crowd.

"I think I'm this way." He pointed down a long hallway when he found room numbers matching the one on the keychain.

"I'm up. I think." Mary's keychain read 329, so it was likely she was on the third floor. "I'll see ya."

Marshall watched as she strode off in search of stairs, only turning when she had disappeared from sight.

"Ugh." Mary grunted as she heaved her luggage up two flights of stairs. "Sorry." She moved her bags to the side and stood sideways to allow others to pass by her. "F-ing feds won't even spring for elevators in their mother humping dorms." She swore to herself as she finally reached the top.

The door to room 329 was already open, and Mary approached cautiously, peering around the door jamb warily before walking in. It was a double.

"Well, hello there!" Someone greeted cheerfully, and Mary visibly winced.

"Hello?"

"I'm Cecelia Gleason, and I'm your roommate! But you can call me Cici. Everyone does." The blonde woman fairly bounced over to Mary and hugged her. "Fun, huh? Just like a big slumber party. I took this bed," She pointed to the mattress with luggage and clothes strewn all over. "So that one's all yours!"

Mary had yet to move or make a sound as she tried to process.

"So, tell me about yourself!" Cici standing on the bed now, tacking a poster of kittens on the wall. "What's your name? Where're you from? I just love this poster, don't you? I take it with me everywhere I go. It's so cute. It just makes me happy to look at it."

"Cute, yeah." Mary finally made a sound. It made her gag a little too look at it, then shook her head and looked Cecelia in the eye with a smile as genuine as she could muster. "I'm sorry, could you excuse me for just a moment. I have to make a very important phone call."

"Oh, of course!" She jumped down from the bed and landed on her feet with a bounce that reminded Mary of the dimwitted cheerleaders from high school. "Calling your husband, I bet?" She grabbed Mary's left hand only to have it jerked back from her grasp. "Or boyfriend." She smiled an obnoxiously annoying smile and bounced back to her luggage to continue unpacking.

Mary hit speed dial, grabbed her luggage, and stalked back to the stairs.

"Bubba's roadkill café. You kill it, we grill it." Marshall's voice greeted her.

"Where are you?" She demanded, in no mood to play.

"My room." He shrugged.

"Number?"

"Why?"

"What's your freaking room number, Marshall. I'm not in the freaking mood."

He sighed. Something had gone wrong. "143." He prayed it wasn't O'Connor. He really didn't want to have to kill a man this week.

"I'll see you in a minute." She hung up the phone before he could respond.

A pounding on his door alerted him to Mary's presence a few minutes later. He swung the door open to find his partner fuming, and accompanied by all her luggage.

"Mare?" He questioned as she pushed past him into the room.

"Good. It's a single." She surveyed the room and dropped her carry-on to the floor.

"Mare?" He tried again, not at all certain what was happening.

"I'm staying with you." She announced as she arranged her bags against the wall, then opened one and started rooting through it.

"If I'm not mistaken, you have a room. Somewhere else. Not in here."

"Yeah. I'm not staying there." She still offered no explanation.

"Mary?" He leaned against the desk and tried to catch up.

"I can't stay there, Marshall. I can't share a freaking cell with Blondy McBimbo. I'll strangle her in her sleep right underneath that goddamn kitten poster. So I'm staying here. Consider it a public service."

She painted a compelling picture, especially the part about the kitten poster. Still.

"Mare, this is the men's floor. No women. Not to mention I paid for this room…"

"Jesus, Marshall. I'll pay half the freaking room if you want. I'll even sleep on the freaking floor. Just don't make me go back up there. Stan said we have to play nice, and I can NOT be nice to that."

Secretly Marshall was pleased that she taken the time to realize her own weaknesses, and honestly he wouldn't mind her being here. It would make her easier to keep an eye on. To keep people away from her. And spending a little time with his partner in this kind of manner might not be so terrible.

"Mary, I…"

"Public service, Marshall. Protect and serve or some crap, right?"

He sighed. He never had a chance. Like he could say no. "You can stay."

"Yes." She breathed. "Thank you. You won't even know I'm here."

"Somehow, I doubt that." He said under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear as he sank onto the twin sized bed.

"I heard that."

Marshall just grinned and kicked his boots off as he lay down for a minute to relax. Maybe the seminar wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought. Everything was more entertaining with Mary around. She had a way of badgering those around her whom she deemed incompetent into magnificent displays of just that incompetency. It made for good entertainment.

She puttered around the room for a few minutes, organizing her things in a small area on the window sill, thoughtfully out of his way. He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because when he awoke, Mary had her laptop out, and was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall typing away. A quick glance at the clock propelled him to sit up.

"Mary." He called, not sure how loud the volume in her headphones was. "Mary." Louder this time.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." She took one ear bud out.

"You hungry?" He motioned toward the clock on the night stand, then wondered how she'd been quiet enough for him to sleep. She wasn't inconsiderate of him. She wouldn't be noisy on purpose (unless she was mad at him), he just didn't figure she'd actually be all that quiet. She was on edge here at Quantico, but maybe staying here in his room was helping her relax somewhat. He could give her that. He would give her anything.

"What's around here?" She asked. "Oh, hang on. I can Google it. What do you feel like?"

Marshall sank down beside her on the floor and they picked out an eatery. He scribbled down the address, rose, and pulled her up beside him.

"There you are! I was wondering what happened to you!" A familiar voice called out as they walked to the car. "That phone call must have been interesting, I've been looking for you all day!"

Mary gritted her teeth as Cindy or Cicely or whatever rushed over to them.

"Where did you go?" She pressed. "I was hoping we could hang out. You know, get to know each other better. If we're going to be roomies, then I want to know everything about you!"

Marshall suddenly understood the urgency of her staying with him. Things would end poorly if she had to spend much time alone with this…person. He could practically hear her teeth grinding in her head as she fought to restrain herself from vomiting on the girl's pink running shoes. Jesus, he noted. They really were pink. In another lifetime, he might have been attracted to this girl. Her curly blonde hair and overt femininity may have caught his eye. She had a decent figure, was even fairly attractive. But after Mary he knew he'd never view another woman quite the same. Mary was all woman. Unapologetically beautiful without even trying. He wondered when he'd become that guy. The one that sits around and pines for a girl who doesn't even know he exists. When had he become the sad puppy sitting at her feet in the hopes of being thrown a scrap of a treat? He couldn't pull himself away from her if he'd tried, though. He was inexplicably tied to her.

He turned his attention back to the women, and noticed the girl whispering something loudly in Mary's ear. It sounded something like "who's the dish," and he bit back a smile as Mary glared at him for not putting a stop to this.

"Look, it's really good to see you, but I'm…" She stopped herself just shy of saying "hungry." To imply that they were getting food would open the door for what's her name to invite herself to come along. "We're really in a hurry. There's something we need to do."

"Oh. Okay!" Cici was only fazed for a moment. "I guess I'll see you later then! Have a good evening!"

"Yeah, you , too!" Mary faked friendliness until Cici was out of earshot, then added, "Freak."

"Blondy McBimbo, I presume?" Marshall waited for her to unlock the doors and made eye contact over the top of the car.

"In the flesh." She shook her head. How does a moron like that end up in law enforcement anyway?

"I see." He really did, too. Mary hated perky. Hell, he hated perky. Maybe she was rubbing off on him. He could think of worse things.

* * *

Dinner was fine. Italian and classy, but not fussy. The waiter recommended something, and they'd both ordered it. Marshall ordered a glass of red wine for each of them, and saw the way Mary tilted her head to the side and looked at him questioningly.

Rather than respond, he raised his glass in a toast. "To partners. And our combined attempts to not knock the heads off the Feds this week."

Mary grinned at him and raised her glass to his. "I'll drink to that. Cheers." She watched him over her wine class as he took a sip. He was her very closest friend. Ever. She had more fun doing nothing with him than she'd ever had doing anything with Raph. Why was that, she wondered.

The waiter brought out the check, and Marshall rose to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket when Mary waved him off. "I've got this, and could we get an order of tiramisu to go, please?"

Ignoring the question she knew he was trying to ask, she intervened. "How far is the beach?"

"We're a few minutes from the Potomac." Marshall offered.

"No." She shook her head. "The ocean. I want to see the ocean."

"Quite a ways." He'd looked at some maps before leaving New Mexico.

"Oh." She looked crestfallen.

"How about next Saturday?" He offered. They didn't fly home until Sunday, and there were no lectures or activities planned for Saturday that he didn't mind missing. Some picnic or something, but the look in Mary's eyes was one that he'd be willing to move heaven and earth to correct. "We can pack a lunch, make a day out of it."

"Yeah?" She hadn't actually thought he'd make a special trip if it was very far.

"Sure. I like the ocean, too." She smiled that smile that made him melt again, and he knew he'd made the right decision. "For now, why don't we get some sweet tea and head over to the river. We can eat the tiramisu on the banks of the Potomac. Probably a pretty good view, even if it's not the Atlantic."

Mary grinned, but replied sarcastically. "What makes you think I'm sharing my tiramisu with you? You should have ordered your own."

He laughed, but knew she was kidding. They would split the rich desert like they had many times before with pie, ice cream sundaes, too-big cupcakes, and flan.

"What about DC?" She asked him as she figured the tip and signed her name on the receipt. "I know you want to go drool at the Smithsonian while we're this close."

She had a point. He did. And a trip to DC would only take them in the opposite direction of the ocean. He loved the capital. The history of it. The monuments. It gave him a feeling of connection to the country. A sense of belonging. And the free museums truly were the icing on the cake. They filled his thirst for knowledge like a flood after a drought.

"We could try to change our tickets to fly our Monday." He offered, but knew it wouldn't work.

"Too expensive." Mary grabbed her purse and desert. "Plus, Stan's expecting us back on Monday. It might look suspicious if we both decide to take vacation while we're here."

She was right, of course. Stan had already questioned him in not so many words regarding the nature of his relationship with Mary on more than one occasion.

"Let's just go to DC on Saturday." Mary opened the door and held it for him. "You can go get your geek on, and I've never been to the capital before. You can show me around."

Her selfless gesture touched him. The yearning in her eyes a few minutes before when she spoke of the ocean told him that the trip to the shore would do more for her than just get sand in her shoes and salt in her hair. It meant more, and her concession spoke volumes.

"If we come back next year, we have to go to the beach then." He bargained. "So let's find a good place to sit by the river, okay?" He was mentally calculating the cost of flying to San Diego for the weekend when they got back, though. The calming repetition of waves lapping against the shoreline could be a healing salve for her soul, and he'd be damned if he would deny her. Surely this could be arranged.

They finally found a small park with a running trail along the banks of the river. Claiming a bench as their own, the pair sat and ate their desert. Marshall's eyes took in the view around him. Green trees and grass. Runners. Bikers. Children and dogs. A family a ways away were tossing a Frisbee around, and there were boats on the river. It was tranquil. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn't hear Mary speak.

"I haven't heard from Katie." She confessed quietly.

Turning his full attention back to her, his gaze settled on her features. She was upset, but not angry. Concerned.

"I haven't called her, though." She added, embarrassed.

Marshall had spoken to her, but he was under orders to not tell Mary.

_A knocking disturbed her from her work. Frowning and dropping her pen on the desk, she stood and walked to the door. The little peep hole was too high for her to use, so she had to yell. _

"_Who is it?"_

"_Marshall." The name floated across the door on a familiar voice. _

_The door flung open, and Marshall found himself being frowned at by a small woman. _

"_What are you doing here?" She asked as she ushered him inside. _

"_Checking on you." He offered, knowing he'd upset her. "Mary's worried. I just wanted to make sure you were in a safe neighborhood."_

"_I'm fine, and thank you, but you can't be here." She offered him a glass of water. It was summer, and the temperature was pushing 105 degrees. _

"_We're friends." He wasn't sure he followed._

"_We ARE friends." Katie assured him. "But right now you need to be Mary's friend. Not mine. We'll work this out. And while we do, you need to be on Mary's side."_

"_I'm not on anyone's side." He protested. _

"_You have to be. I need you to be. You need to be on Mary's side." She tried to explain it to him. "Look, I'm not mad at Mary. I'm not mad at anyone. She told me she wanted me to go, so I did. When she cools off, I'll call her or something. We'll be fine. But you can't be here. You can't be my friend when Mary and I are having a thing. She'll see it as a betrayal."_

_He knew that. She would. That's why he hadn't told her he was visiting her cousin. He just hadn't known Katie would see that as well. Hell, of course she knew it. She never missed anything when it came to Mary. _

"_I'll go." He nodded in agreement as he looked around the small studio. "It's a good space." He observed. _

"_I'll get some furniture." She laughed. "Eventually."_

"_You're okay?" He asked again. _

"_I'm fine. How's Mary?"_

"_She misses you." He said simply._

"_I miss her, too. I'll try to come by next week. She might not kick me out by then."_

"_We'll be gone next week." He remembered the seminar. "Try after."_

"_Okay. I will. Take care of her." She waved as left. _

"_I will." Or at least he'd try. _

"I bet if you call her, she'd be glad to hear from you." He tried not to divulge too much even though he knew her cousin would be delighted to hear from her.

"I don't even know where she's living."

"It would be easy enough to find out." He may have misappropriated some government resources in his search, but Mary had a sort of truce with Dershowitz at ABQPD. If she asked nicely, Marshall had no doubt that the cop would help her out.

"Yeah." She sighed and fell silent as she stabbed a bit with a plastic fork. Several minutes of silence passed until she spoke again. "Tell me about the capital."

"Yeah?" It wasn't the request he was expecting.

"Yeah. What are we going to see?"

He smiled as he launched into a discussion about the architecture and monuments. The museums and parks. The history. She didn't interrupt him, even when he languored on about the influence of Georgian architecture at the White House. She sat quietly and absorbed his knowledge, let his voice flow over her and sooth her. She was okay. She was here. With Marshall. And everything would be okay. Things with Katie would be resolved; Brandi might someday straighten herself out. Jinx had an actual job and for once was doing a decent job of staying out of the bottle. And she had Marshall. Things would be okay.

* * *

Marshall tossed and turned that night. He was comfortable enough physically. Mary hadn't asked for the bed like he'd figured she would. She'd changed into her pajamas in the bathroom, and curled up in a ball in a corner on the floor with her back to him. He opened his eyes and watched her sleep. The air conditioning in the dorms was controlled by a thermostat in a different room. It was cold. He was cold, and he knew Mary had to be freezing. She had long sleeves and long pants on, but had at some point during the night grabbed his jacket and was using it as a blanket over her torso. She had a sweatshirt balled up to use as a pillow, and socks had appeared on her feet that hadn't been there when he'd gone to sleep. He wondered if she was used to sleeping without a mattress or blanket. Had she spent many nights like this as a child? Katie had alluded to something along those lines a few weeks ago, and he couldn't quite get the image out of his mind. If there had been blankets to be had, there was no doubt in his mind that she'd given them to Brandi. Her daddy told her to take care of her baby sister and she'd done her best, he knew, and she was still trying. Tiptoeing out of bed, he rummaged through his suitcase until he found a fleece jacket he'd packed. After sniffing it to make sure it was clean, he carefully draped it across her legs to add another layer of warmth. He'd have to remember to procure some extra blankets for both of them tomorrow. She'd either freeze to death or he'd give her his blankets, which just meant she'd kill him when she woke up and discovered it. She needed a pillow, too. Her neck would hurt if she had to use the shirt for the whole week for support. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, he gave her arm a squeeze and headed back to bed. What he really wanted to do was grab the blanket and pillow and curl right up behind her. Share some body heat. Keep her warm. But she'd rearrange his face or his crotch if he did that, so instead, he settled for watching her as she slumbered. This week would be interesting, that's for sure. He let out a sigh as he closed his eyes.

Mary was awake, but she didn't want her partner to know it. She felt him carefully place the jacket on her legs and the tender way he brushed her long hair out of her face. The affectionate squeeze, and the way his hands lingered on her arm. She heard the sighs. She just didn't know what to do about them. Yet.

* * *

_A/N: That's all for now. I have to go study something. Feel free to review. Really._


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long since the last update! I took my board exam. It spectacularly sucked, but as I understand it, that's par for the course. Now I'm trying to pack up my apartment so I can move. Grand. I hate moving. So. Other stuff sucks. Enjoy. Also, I don't own the characters, Poweraid, Splenda, or EasyMac. Or really anything else. I do own piles and piles of notes, but they really aren't worth suing me over. Also, this is the revised chapter 10. I posted, went to sleep, and woke up remembering all the stuff I'd meant to include. So, now it's here. Enjoy. Again?_

_

* * *

_

Mary fidgeted in the seat beside him, shifting ceaselessly in the hard metal folding chair. She had muttered something about the feds being cheap bastards early that morning when they'd first plopped themselves down, and he had to agree with her. The overly warm auditorium made it difficult for him to concentrate, and he knew it was harder for Mary, although she was definitely doing a better job than he. His powers of single minded concentration were, he knew, greater than hers. Especially when the DOJ had gone out of its way to find the country's most monotone speaker to droll on ad nauseum about the smallest details of their jobs – the jobs they did every single day. Mary was muttering under her breath, and he chuckled, earning him an elbow in the ribs.

"Pay attention." She hissed, only half serious.

"Come on, Mare." He whispered back, leaning close enough to smell her. "This is crap. We know this stuff in our sleep."

"I know." She patted his knee patronizingly as she rifled through her purse. "Give me some paper." She whispered, only to be shushed by the moron sitting behind her. "Oh, you shush." She hissed back as she checked through Marshall's front pockets herself.

"Hey!" He pushed her hands away. "Just…hold on a second." He extracted a notebook from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to her.

"Thanks." She muttered, and quickly scribbled something on the first blank page she flipped to, then handled it back to her partner.

"Tic-tac-toe, Mare?" He quirked an eyebrow at her even as he drew a lopsided "o" in a corner box.

"You said you're bored." She reached over and put an "x" in the center. "Now you have something to do."

Eight rounds of tac-tac-toe and five rounds of hangman later, Mary was getting restless and Marshall was just plain bored. She had managed to take notes on whatever the speaker was talking about, much to Marshall's amusement. He'd given up paying attention a while ago, and found it a bit odd that Mary, even while goofing off and playing games with him, was still transcribing the lecture verbatim.

"Lunch! Finally!" Marshall was stiff after sitting for four hours, and had to use his arms to stand up. The years were catching up to him, and he felt just plain old sometimes. Usually, he just tried to not think about it.

"Thank god, I'm starving." Mary followed her lanky partner out the door, past the crowds, and straight out to the rental car. "How long do we have?"

"Hmm?" He glanced at her briefly as he backed the car out of the space. "Oh, little under an hour."

"That enough time?"

"We're not going far." He assured her blandly, knowing how much she hated it when he was evasive.

"This had better be edible."

"Oh, ye of little faith." Marshall chuckled at her.

* * *

Marshall was watching Mary as he lounged on the bed. She was at the desk studying. Desperately copying her notes again and again. She was more studious than he'd anticipated. From what he knew of Mary, and honestly, that was a lot, she had skipped as many classes as possible in high school and college. He hadn't pegged her for the bookworm. The question here was…why? She took notes during the lectures. The lectures she didn't want to go to in the first place. Then she spent all night studying. She slept on the floor for the past two nights without incident. When he'd been bored in class, she'd played games with him – all the while scribbling down the finer points of the lecture. Something was up. And he didn't like it.

"Hey, Mare?" He tried to catch her attention. "Mare!"

She looked up from her notes and twisted to look at him. "Yeah?"

"Let's go." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached to grab her hand, only to have her pull it away and turn back to the desk. "Ma-ry!" He sang. "Come on."

"I'm busy, Marshall." She waved him off.

"Mary, let's get out of here."

"Not now, Marshall!" She said it with a little more force than absolutely necessary, and actually felt badly about it.

"I'll buy the first round." He waited. Nothing. "And second." She froze, and he knew he had her attention. "Third?"

"Deal." She closed her notebook and stood. "Let me change."

"You look fine." Marshall protested, figuring it would take her hours to get ready.

"I'm in my pajamas, you perv." She grabbed a pair of jeans and made a swirly motion with her index finger. "There's no free shows here, Marshall. If you wanna watch, you've gotta pay first. And I don't take credit."

Marshall had the grace to hesitate before he rolled his eyes and turned his back. He heard the zipper, and waited a few moments before he turned.

"Ready?"

"Ready." She grabbed her purse, slipped on her shoes, and smiled at him.

He knew better than to think Mary would ever stoop to live up to the cliché. She could get ready in a hurry. She could beat the crap out of a man twice her size, and she could outsmart event he wiliest criminal minds. She was Mary. It's just how she is.

"Who's D.D.?"

"No one."

"Are you itching for a D.U.I.?"

"We're walking, my ever suspicious friend." He wrapped a friendly arm around her shoulders. "There's a bar just a few blocks away."

He gave her a squeeze and dropped his arm, and to his surprise, Mary wound her arm around his. Not much was spoken for the rest of the walk to the bar. He wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth. He wasn't born yesterday. If Mary was initiating contact, he was just going to go with it. Be the proverbial river. Let it happen.

Marshall was on his third round of shots, and Mary's jaw was definitely feeling looser. He wasn't feeling that buzzed, but he attributed it to his increased body mass. Of course the fact that his liver got its exercise regularly probably didn't hurt, either. The booze may have gone to his brain, after all, he realized as he opened his mouth and heard the words come out.

"Tell me about how you taught Katie to drive."

"How or why?" Mary asked for clarification.

"Both." He suspected there was a story there.

"She was twelve. She pestered me to teach her to drive." She ended her with finality, telling him that she wasn't going to continue.

"And?" He pressed, praying it was a smart decision.

"I did."

Marshall wasn't stupid. There was more to this story. And he suspected that she needed to tell it to someone. "Why? You weren't old enough to drive. How'd you learn? Who taught you?"

She was silent for a moment, and he feared he'd pushed too far. She surprised him, though. She had a tendency to do that.

"Jinx liked to drink." She stated, and he nodded. This was not exactly news to him. Jinx's drinking problem had caused him, and especially Mary, no small amount of concern.

"There was a bar near the apartment." She paused, and took a shaky breath before continuing. "But she didn't always go there. She liked this place in the next town. They men were richer there. Suburbia or some crap. The freaking American dream. She actually thought she was going to convince them that they should leave their wives and happy family and picket fences and take off with her. I wonder if she would have even taken us with her if anyone had taken the bait." Her voice got softer and trailed off at the end, and Marshall felt his heard contract a little. A daughter shouldn't have to wonder if her mother loved her.

He reached across the booth and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Anyway, it was far away, and the barkeep would call the house and when he closing, and someone had to drive her home." She took a deep breath. "Someone had to drive the other car home." She shrugged as she repeated, and Marshall understood that the "someone" who'd needed to do everything was Mary. It was always Mary.

"How old were you?" He felt bad asking, but he needed to know. He had an inkling that she needed to tell someone. He hoped he was the one.

"The first time?" He nodded. "I don't know. Twelve. Maybe thirteen."

He sighed. That hurt him. He couldn't imagine how much it hurt Mary.

"And Katie?"

"She knew." Mary took a shot. "And when she thought she was tall enough, she made me teach her."

"No one makes you do anything." Marshall reminded her.

"Katie does." She turned her head and stared at something innocuous for a moment. "So do you."

He had to admit, there were times that he did have a tendency to push Mary towards what he considered to be the correct direction.

"She saw the logic of it, you know?" Mary scoffed when she realized the irony. "God, she's just like you, but with boobs."

"And chromosomes that closely resemble yours." Marshall posited. If that fact wasn't well…true…then the relationship with Mary that he fantasized about would be illegal. Not to mention sinful. And right down disgusting.

"So I taught her how to drive."

"And that's it." He knew it wasn't.

"I guess."

"You two have to take that show on the road often?" He hadn't meant the pun, but it came out anyway.

"Often enough." She shrugged. "I don't know. Every couple weeks or so, I'd get the call. Katie was always at the apartment, so it just made sense for her to come with." He was starting to see, although he suspected that she'd downplayed how often the experience truly was. "I'd drive Jinx's car, and Katie would drive whatever car we'd managed to boost."

"Boost?" Marshall was aware of Brandi's penchant for boosting cars, but this new information was like catnip to his over-analytical brain.

"Fine. Yes. I was the one that taught Brandi to how to steal cars. But it wasn't always stealing. Sometimes we'd just borrow the keys to her boyfriend's car if he happened to be staying with us, or if we were staying with some boyfriend. " She admitted, and Marshall was granted a one-night pass into the life and times of Mary Shannon. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Parts of him wondered about those boyfriends. The volume. The history. Were the girls safe? Those might be questions better saved for a different night, though. He knew they moved around a bit when she was younger after her father left. Tonight he was starting to understand a little more.

"And Katie." He observed.

"She's never done it without reason." Mary defended, assuming that he was thinking the worse.

"I didn't mean it that way." He soothed. "I just meant that you needed to take care of your family, and you did. No holds barred. There's no judgment here." He promised.

"I know." She conceded. Marshall would never do that. He didn't judge her. He'd never judged her. "I gave her a few lessons in the parking lot at the school." She explained. "She's a natural." She laughed, but it was bitter. "Except she was too short. Frigging midget. She had to sit on a stack of books and have the seat all the way up just to touch the pedals. I'd drive to the bar. Pick up Jinx. I'd drive her Mercury home. She'd drive back whatever pile of crap we'd gotten a hold of. As long as it wasn't a stick. She still can't drive a stick."

That was it, then. It seems that everything in not only Mary's life, but also a large portion of Katie's, had been defined by Mary's father disappearing and Jinx crawling into the bottle to soothe away the pain. Mary had battled against all odds to keep not only Brandi, but herself and her mother alive, and she had, perhaps unwittingly, pulled Katie along with her.

"We almost got arrested once." Mary continued uncharacteristically. "Well, I got arrested. Katie got off with a warning."

The knowledge that Mary had a juvenile record didn't exactly surprise him, he just figured it had been for something other than dragging her thoroughly marinated mother home from some fine establishment in the middle of the night. There were times, and this was one of them, when Marshall truly wondered if there was any justice. Surely she didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be abandoned and left to care for her mother and sister. She didn't deserve to have her entire life defined by the conspicuous absence of one cowardly male. Of course, he reasoned, neither did Brandi. Brandi probably wasn't even aware of how this whole situation affected her. Mary, at least, was capable of some degree of introspection and did occasionally share her revelations with him. Most people didn't know that about Mary. He knew. He knew she was deep. He knew she spend a great deal of her time just thinking. Thinking about her life. Her choices. Those of the people around her. He didn't always agree with her decisions, but God bless her, she did try.

"You go to court or something?" He should know this, he realized. Basic criminal proceedings were something about which he shouldn't have to inquire. That was probably a testament to the tequila. Or whatever it was Mary had ordered. He hadn't actually taken the time to taste it. Just downed the shot and took it like a man. Of course, so had Mary.

"Nah. They dropped the charges." Mary took another shot, and Marshall had visions of dragging her home. He decided to stop drinking lest they both end up requiring assistance.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She drew the syllable out long. "I'm thinking Jinx probably showed up in one of her more colorful getups. Probably brought Brandi along for effect. Cried those crocodile tears and concocted some cockamamie story about how this was all a burden on her. It really is ALL about Jinx, you know." She was sounding bitter. "Every goddamn thing."

"Katie didn't get in trouble?" He suspected that Mary had something to do with that as well. Probably did everything she could to keep her out of the crosshairs, so to speak.

"I wouldn't drag her into something like that and then sit back and let her take the blame." Even drunk, she was still relatively articulate. "I took care of her."

"I know you did." He patted her hand gently and wondered if she'd cripple him if he hugged her. Must be the booze. "You take care of everyone."

"Mare?" Now was the time to ask, if he was going to. "Can I ask you something?"

"I thought it was "may"?" She teased, knowing how much incorrect grammar irritated him.

"Fine. May I ask you something?"

She must have been feeling the alcohol, because she said yes. He wondered at it after.

"What's going on with you this week?"

"Whaddya mean?" She locked eyes with him in a silent battle. Daring him to say it aloud. Think it. Voice it.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Just. You're taking notes in class. You studied until midnight last night. I have a hunch that if I hadn't dragged you out to this lovely establishment…"

"Dive bar." She corrected.

"Fine. Dive bar, that you'd still be holed up in the room studying. What's going on? Is something else bothering you?" It wasn't that he thought she was lazy; quite the opposite, in fact. He just didn't understand the change. She wasn't usually the studious type.

"What's it to you?" He didn't take her accusation too seriously. She was too drunk to take too seriously. Still, it stung a little.

"I'm concerned. And I'm your friend. That's what it is to me." He said if firmly, and it got her attention. She bit her lip as she looked up from the table. The wooden grain had become very interesting to her in the past minute or two, and she was tracing the lines with her index finger.

"I'm just trying to learn the damn stuff, Marshall!" He knew he'd made a strategical error, but he had no idea what it was.

"I know that." Soothing her now would most likely be ineffectual. He tried anyway. "I guess I'm just worried that there's something else afoot here. Something deeper."

She was silent for a moment, and Marshall watched as her eyes fixed on something unseen in the distance. She looked tired. Pale. Tense. He waited. Her expression changed suddenly, and he found her eyes on his.

"Some of us have to work a little harder to learn things, or is that not okay with you?" Her remark was biting, and the deeper meaning was unmistakable to him.

"You think that I don't think you're smart." His voice held disbelief. She was brilliant. He knew that. He thought she knew that. Damn. No wonder she was angry with him. He waited for a response, but no verbal one came. Instead a slight blush covered her cheeks and she had to avert her eyes. How embarrassing.

"Mary," He used her first name. The whole thing. This was serious. How do you convince a person that you respect them intellectually? He thought back to all the times he'd corrected her or someone else in her presence. The times he'd babbled on incessantly about some mundane topic or tried to impress (and occasionally piss off) with obscure facts and dribble. Had she taken those moments as insults all these years? God, he hoped not.

"Mary? Is that it? Is that what's bothering you?" He saw the muscles around her eyes tense, and knew he'd hit the nail on the head. Had he failed her this spectacularly?

"Doesn't matter." She shoved her hair our of her face and set her jaw. It didn't matter. So she wasn't a genius. She didn't have her partner's freakish ability to memorize volumes with a single glance. She was good at her job. She was…tired.

"It matters to me." He pushed. "It matters to me if you think I don't respect you. Or if you think I don't value you as an asset to this partnership."

Damn him. Damn him and the obnoxious way he always knows what's going on inside her head. She stared at the people line dancing for a few minutes. Denim clad legs. Kick. Rock. Turn. A metaphor, she realized ruefully. A comparison that does not use "like" or "as." That would be a simile. Kick. Rock. Turn. Add "run" in there, and you'd have her life. Why was it that she always ended up doubting herself the most?

Marshall was waiting, staring at her profile as she fixated on nothing. He knew her well enough to know not to push right now. Wait. Pause. Let her collect herself. Let her talk on her own terms. He glanced at his watch. It had actually been a few minutes since she'd spoken, and he considered saying something. Then the muscle in her jaw went lax, and he waited.

"I'm not like you." Her voice was so low he had to strain to hear, leaning over the table that separated them.

A pause. "I have to work harder to learn stuff." He caught what she said, but only barely. The music and frivolity was too much. They'd have to leave to continue the conversation.

"Let's get out of here and talk." He suggested, praying she'd agree. This probably wasn't the best time to have heart to heart with his partner, but it would have to do. He wasn't letting this hang.

She just grunted and tried to flag down the waitress, but Marshall intervened. He'd been counting. She'd had enough. Hell, he'd had enough, and she'd outdone him by four. It was a wonder she was still conscious at all. It was probably best to get her back to the dorms before the liquor hit her brain full blast.

"How much do I owe?" She was starting to slur.

"I've got it." He waved her off. "Don't worry about it."

"Marshall, I can pay." She rummaged in her purse and found a wallet, then clumsily tried to open it. He handed the waitress his credit card and smiled when Mary didn't even notice. She was still fighting the snap mechanism on the wallet.

"I've got this one, Mare." He tried to put the wallet away. "You can pay next time."

That seemed to placate her, because she let him take the wallet and put it back in her purse. Pulling her to her feet, he steadied her with one arm around her waist and the two started out on what ended up being a long walk back. He had to admit it, though; the girl could hold her liquor. Perhaps that wasn't a good thing.

"Mary." His voice was low and rumbling in her ear and it made her shiver. "You need to know that I DO respect you."

She responded with a small, petulant nod, and he resisted the urge to press his lips against her temple.

"I know that I don't have to work that hard to learn things. But you have to know by now that I don't care about that. You…" He searched for the right words. This was not the time to be construed as patronizing. He could only reassure. Placation wouldn't work here. "You…you are the only person I'd want backing me up. Fist fight. Bar fight. Fire fight. Digging through papers at work. Whatever. I know what you're capable of doing. I've seen it first hand. Please don't think that I doubt you." The unspoken message here was _"please don't doubt yourself,"_ but he knew she did. One drunken pep talk was not likely to change that any time soon.

"Mary, look at me." He stopped, the hand on her hip pulling her against him. "Come on." He coaxed, but she refused to meet his eyes.

"Katie told me that you checked her homework every night. I'm guessing you checked Brandi's too?"

A small shrug with one shoulder. She tried to downplay the importance.

"Do you know what your genius is?" It never occurred to him that she didn't. He did. He saw it immediately after he met her, and that was what had urged him to tell Stan to hire her.

"You see the best in people. You see what they can become. You see through all the bullshit and the lies and the masks they put on. You have an innate, god-given ability to read people and care about them. No one lies to you and gets away with it. You don't take anyone's crap, and that's a good thing. You have your finger on the pulse of human emotions, Mare. You cut through people's defenses and you help them become something more than they dreamed they were capable of becoming. Katie's going to be a physicist, and she attributes that entirely to you, you know? Jinx has her head on straight. She's sober. She's working. She's making good decisions. That's because of you. Brandi's in school. She's dating a nice guy who adores her. That's all you, Mare. Your genius is your unfailing belief in the people you love. No matter what you've been through, no matter how many times they've let you down. You're still standing in their corner ready to pick them back up, dust them off, and set them back on their feet ready for another round."

She still wasn't meeting his eyes, but her face had relaxed. Jaw no longer clenched.

"I'm lucky to have you in my life, Mary." He had one hand on each shoulder. "You remind me to see the good in people every day."

She scoffed at that. "How drunk are you?" Green eyes finally met blue in disbelief. "I'm sarcastic, cynical, and angry on a good day."

His smile was one she didn't recognize. "And yet you still, somewhere deep inside, look for the best in people."

"So you're saying my genius is naïveté?" She smirked.

"Nope." The mood was lighter now, and he was glad. Her silence had been suffocating. "I'm saying your genius is your never-ending ability to hope that people are good. That they will surprise you and be more than what you see. You see people. You see straight through them. And it makes them uncomfortable in the spotlight. You, Mary Shannon, are a spotlight. You shine on people and urge them to fix the broken, bitter pieces of themselves, and you remind them of who they can be. What they can become. That's a gift, Mare. Never doubt it." _"Never doubt yourself." _ That was a conversation better saved for another day. Best to leave this here.

"You believe me?" He wrapped his arm around her waist again when she stumbled slightly.

"Yeah, Marshall." She whispered in the damp night air. "I believe you."

Neither one spoke for the remainder of the trip back. Marshall chose to leave Mary alone with her thoughts. He couldn't tell if she really had believed him, or if she'd caught on to what he'd been trying to say. What he'd left unsaid. She didn't push his arm away, so that was something. He was grateful to have a room on the first floor when he realized just how toasted Mary really was. Rather than having to lug her up the stairs, he just half-carried her to his room and collapsed on the bed with her in his arms. She made a little grunting sound, but made no move to push him away or get comfortable. Marshall didn't move for a few minutes, his hazy brain savoring the feeling of warm Mary snuggled against him. Eventually his better sense took over, though, and he disengaged himself from her and sat up. He removed his boots and belt and tossed off his button down shirt, then turned to address Mary. She was sound asleep from the looks of it, and he wasn't even going to broach the subject of getting her into pajamas. Instead he opted to take off her shoes, but left her belt and the rest of her clothing exactly as it was. Now he was really stuck, though. She was on his pillow. And his blanket. Not to mention his bed. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of those defining moments of their relationship where the choice he made right here, right now would dictate the course of their collective future. Then again, perhaps he just got overly sentimental when he's drunk.

Throwing caution to the wind, and reasoning that "it's my bed," he rashly crawled back onto the tiny twin mattress. If he had to, he'd argue that he'd been drunk, too. It could work. She smelled good, he noted. Even after an entire day in the auditorium, hours in a bar, and a humid walk to and from there, she still smelled good. He noticed she'd changed her body wash or lotion. Something different. Not vanilla anymore. Something citrus. Summery. He couldn't put a finger on it. Her hair was in his face, so he smoothed it back and had to close his eyes. It was as soft as it looked. He was uncomfortable, so he wriggled around, slid his arm under Mary's neck and wrapped the other one around her middle. She felt warm against him. It felt right somehow. If only…

* * *

Marshall woke up early the next morning. Well, sort of. He was only half certain he was conscious. His brain felt like he was moving through jello. He was a little confused. _"Think, Mann. Think."_ He silently took stock of his whereabouts. Quantico. Dorm. Bed. Vodka. Shots. Mary. Mary! He opened his eyes and was greeted with a face full of Mary's blonde hair. She had buried her head in his chest at sometime during the night, and their legs had become tangled together. He never wanted to move from this spot. This position. Just stay here forever. Unfortunately, if Mary woke up and discovered that his right hand had, at some point during the night, worked its way under the hem of her shirt and was now splayed flat on her lower back she'd be liable to turn him into a eunuch. He fought the urge to gently stroke the soft skin of her back, but he lost. Failed. Caressed. But only for a moment. Carefully extricating himself from their collective embraces, he stood over her watching. Her face was relaxed. Her hair spread messily over the pillow. His eyes coasted down from her shoulder, the dip of her waist, flare of her denim clad hip. Oh, god. He needed to leave the room.

Coffee. She'd want coffee when she woke up. And water. Aspirin. Food. He had a mission. A plan. He needed to get to work. A quick glance at the clock told him he had roughly an hour before she had to wake up. She'd need more time this morning. She'd be sluggish. Have a headache. He didn't envy her the headache that would inevitably plague her all day.

Taking care of Mary's hangover gave him something to think about, so he threw himself into it. A quick trip to a pharmacy yielded bottles of water, sports drink, aspirin, and those microwavable macaroni and cheese dinners. Coffee. He'd need coffee. He thought he'd seen a small coffee shop a few blocks away. He bought four. Regular coffee. Black. The maximum amount of caffeine. He swiped some sugars on the way out. Regular for him. That new Splenda crap for Mary since she'd been on a new health kick of late.

Mary was still sleeping when he got back to the room. He considered letting her sleep longer, but she did need to get up. It took her a minute or two to get going on a good morning, and this would not be a good morning. Hell, his head felt like it was cracking into tiny pieces, and he'd stopped several shots before she did. What was she hiding from, he wondered? Why? What wasn't she telling him?

He took a sip of coffee and sat on the edge of the bed with a small smile.

"Mary." Another sip. "Mare, it's morning." He kept his voice low and soft. Comforting.

The only reply he received was a low grunt and Mary clumsily pushing his hand off her shoulder.

"Mary, I have coffee." His fingertips lightly brushed her hair out of her face. "And food. And painkillers."

"Mmmmph."

"That's my girl." He waved the coffee cup in front of her face. "Come on. Open those eyes."

Another groan, followed this time by a slow blink as she opened her eyes.

"Coffee?"

"You're a god." Came her hoarse reply as she moved to sit up.

"Here." He sat down the coffee and helped her sit up, realizing how poor she did feel if she was accepting assistance from him. "Coffee?"

"Aspirin." She croaked even as she accepted the cup.

"Got it covered." He unscrewed a PowerAid and handed her two pills. "Take these." He waited for her to swallow. "And come with me."

"Where?"

"Trust me." He grabbed the shopping bag and his coffee and gestured for Mary to open the door.  
"Where are we going?"

"Follow me." He led her to a small kitchen area on the third floor. "Here we go." He handed her the box of macaroni and cheese. "Eat up."

"Hangover food." She graced him with a wide grin. "You take care of me." There was something unidentifiable in her voice, and her eyes matched it.

"It's my job." He deflected, reminding her of his promise as he added water to the microwavable dish.

They ate their breakfast standing up, leaning back against the counter side by side. Coffee, mac and cheese, and gatoraide. Not exactly a breakfast of champions. It wasn't pancakes and eggs, but it was still perfect. She was touched by the gesture. She hadn't been kidding. He did take care of her. Odd, though. She didn't mind. Why was that?

* * *

A/N: that's all for now. I'll be without internet for a few days while I move and get settled in. More will be forthcoming if anyone still wants it. Take care.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: I don't own them. I don't get paid for this (except in reviews, which are ALMOST as good as cash). Don't sue me.

Thanks for all the reviews! You are all too kind, and I'd hug you all if I could. So, find a buddy, and have them hug you. I'm all moved in. Mostly. I have a few boxes to unpack, but no where to put the stuff that's in them. So...they might stay unpacked for a while. Board exams SPECTACULARLY sucked, but from what I hear, that's just how they are. Hopefully I passed! I won't know for a few weeks. This chapter MAY have been inspired by my trip to the gym this morning. Some one pissed me off. Et voila! Enjoy!

* * *

Mary was having trouble paying attention during the lecture today. The slight headache wasn't helping matters, but it was not the actual cause of her inattention. No, Mary was deep in thought. About Marshall. She was having thoughts about Marshall that she knew she shouldn't be having. Thoughts she tried to keep from having. He didn't know it, but she had indeed awakened during the night only to find that her partner was curled around her like a security blanket. The weird thing was that she found herself sitting here, inhaling the clean, manly scent of her partner and missing the warm, comforting feeling of laying there in his arms. She was still trying to puzzle out exactly why she didn't mind Marshall being snuggled up against her. She wasn't usually the touchy-feely type. She didn't like to cuddle. She preferred her encounters to be over quickly, and then move on. Why is it that Marshall always managed to get inside her defenses? Why did she want to feel his arms around her again? When did she stop minding when he invaded her permanent bubble of personal space? How did that happen?

It annoyed her that she couldn't remember, so she sat fuming while Marshall dutifully took notes for her. He'd noticed her inattention, and had attributed it to the hangover that he assumed was splitting her head into pieces. Since he was aware of her newfound penchant for dictating lectures, he'd taken the responsibility upon himself to see to it that she'd have her notes when the haze cleared. After all, he was her keeper.

She sat, not paying attention to the speaker and chewing on her bottom lip in that pouty way that made Marshall's knees feel like limp noodles. He tried not to stare; even turned his face a few degrees away to shield his eyes. It didn't work.

Mary, for her part, was puzzling out when and how she had gotten so comfortable around Marshall. When was it that she'd stopped moving away when his shoulder brushed hers or glaring at him when he walked with his hand on the small of her back? Hell, he was the only person in the history of Mary Shannon's past thirty two years to gain her implicit trust. She let him drive. She let him pick out her food. He brought her coffee. He bought her little gifts. Spent time with her. Gave her pep talks. And she didn't rip his head off for any of it. Of course, she razzed him. Called him girls names. Questioned his sexual orientation. But that was all in jest. She never actually wondered if he was secretly more of a girl than she, and she'd never once questioned that he was all male. Hell, just the scent of him in the morning, freshly showered as she breezed past him on the way towards her desk was enough to make her close her eyes for a brief second and just…inhale. He was never patronizing, either. When he did things, brought her things, she didn't push him away. He'd started out small: doughnut, water, new pens when hers ran out of ink. She'd never second-guessed it. He was just being a good partner. A decent fellow. But somewhere along the way, the "things" gained significance, and she'd failed to notice that his little trinkets were really tokens of how closely he paid attention to her life when she talked. He listened. He absorbed. And she hadn't noticed. When they watched movies at her house or his they didn't sit on opposite sides of the sofa or in separate chairs anymore. They sat close. Shoulders against one another. Legs comfortably touching. At the theater they shared a popcorn and soda. Same straw. If Raph had tried to drink out of her straw she'd have sucker punched him. But Marshall…

God. When did this happen? When did she get so damn comfortable around him? How did she let this happen? Hell. How did HE let this happen? And his arms around her this morning had stirred all manner of emotions inside her that left her feeling jittery and uncomfortable and …what was that other feeling?

It occurred to her that she hadn't been paying attention for…glancing at her watch, she saw it had been a good three hours now. She'd failed to take a single note, too, she realized. Now if only she could find her pen. Her pockets were empty. Jacket pockets similarly failed to produce any sort of writing implement. She searched around her chair, under, beneath her feet. Nothing. She blew out a breath of frustration and looked in Marshall's direction when she heard a low chuckle.

"Something funny, doofus?" She hissed, and only noticed after that he was currently taking notes with her pen. "Give me that!" She tried to grab the pen from his grasp, but he held on tight.

"It's mine!" Her voice was rising in volume. "Give it here."

"You weren't using it!" He held it just beyond her grasp, long arms giving him an advantage. For the first time in a while she actually sounded like herself. It made him want to jump for joy. Turn back flips. Tap dance on the ceiling. Or, more likely…and more importantly less light in the loafers, go for a nice long run or hit some targets squarely at center mass at the range. Yeah. More like that last one. Mary would appreciate that last one.

"Marshall, give me my pen!" She was practically in his lap now as she reached for her favorite pen. Well, it was her favorite today. It was her only pen today, which made it her favorite by default. And she wanted it back.

She managed to grab his wrist and wrestle the pen from his grasp, aided of course by the fact that he was laughing so hard he could barely contain himself.

"Jerkwad." She muttered under her breath as she adjusted herself back on her own chair.

"Control freak." He whispered back, pretending to wince when she punched him in the arm.

"Moron."

"Whiner."

"Uh…" Her brain failed her for a moment.

"Oh. Sad." Marshall goaded. "Round two, and already tapped? Really, Shannon, you've gotta work on your smack talk."

"Shut it!" She warned.

"Or what?" He'd missed this.

"So help me, Marshall, I will shut it for you!"

"Hey!" Some large muscled, red-faced man from behind them said none too quietly. "Why don't you both shut up!"

"Oh, stuff it, you steroid-induced Neanderthal." Mary didn't even try to whisper, and Marshall had to turn around to face forward to hide his smile. "We'll talk if we want to."

She turned back around before he could respond and elbowed her partner in the ribs. "Way to go, Nerd. Get us both in trouble with the local behemoth."

"Relax." He smiled at her. "I have a plan if he gets violent." He waited for her eyebrow to raise before continuing. "You flash him, and I'll run away."

"Please." She smirked. "Like I'd whip out the girls just to save your sorry ass."

"What's wrong with my ass?" He feigned hurt, but his brain was wandering into dangerous territory.

That earned him a kick in the ankle and another elbow to the ribs. How did she always manage to hit the exact same spot? He was fairly confident that he'd had a permanent bruise in that exact same spot for the entirety of their partnership, and another one mirroring it on the opposite side. The woman could aim. Not that he minded.

"Do you want my notes?" He offered her the scribblings he'd worked so hard on all morning.

"Um, Marshall?" She was grinning, and he knew something was up. "Has anyone ever told you that you have the handwriting of a serial killer?"

"Just you, Mare." He laughed and dropped the notes in her lap. "I'll type them up for you later if you want."

"I can read it." She grumbled. "I've spent the last seven years learning to decipher your chicken scratch."

"Oh, like your penmanship is something to write home about?" He quickly moved his arm in front of his rib cage and discretely moved his ankles out of reach of her legs before she injured him again. Devil woman kept him on his heels, that for sure.

After they were done with death by powerpoint for the day, Mary goaded Marshall into going to the gym with her. He really hadn't felt like it, but the woman did make a valid argument. He knew his partner. He knew what she looked like. Mary was a beautiful woman. It was just a fact. She didn't particularly enjoy the ogling that went on when she went to a gym filled with predominantly men by herself. She could handle it, she just figured things would be easier if she had Marshall around to deflect. Damn him. If he'd volunteered for this duty five years ago, she would have kicked him in the face. But here she was, asking her partner to run interference for her so she didn't have to fend off the unwelcome advances of a bunch of guys in law enforcement who just naturally assumed she'd be down for a roll in the hay with them. Marshall had grown accustomed to this role over the years, as they often worked out together. It was a job he'd done surreptitiously at first, but the first time Mary had wrapped an arm around his sweaty waist and announced to some unfortunate hopeful suitor that they'd been happily together for three and a half years now, he'd thrown himself into the job with gusto. She'd thanked him for playing along and rolled her eyes at the situation.

He never minded playing jerk repellent, although he knew his motives were not entirely altruistic. Yes, saving Mary from being hit on at the gym, the bar, wherever, was nice. Possibly preventing her from hooking up with some idiot man who was only interested in her décolletage and other more feminine aspects was a perk. Keeping her from starting a relationship with ANY man, at this point, was more what he was going for. More to the point, any man…except him. He felt he was making headway in that matter, though. Had been for a while. And honestly, he didn't mind working up a sweat with his partner. There was something very appealing about a flushed, sweaty Mary wearing those tank tops and shorts that exposed her usually well-hidden legs. No. He didn't mind this part of the job at all.

Mary grabbed an elliptical machine and pumped up the resistance, smirking as Marshall opted for the treadmill beside her.

"How long?" They varied their workout routine, and he knew not to just assume how much she would do. Personally, Marshall preferred a standard routine. Before Mary, he'd had a system. Thirty minutes on the treadmill. Lift for twenty minutes, alternating upper with lower body. Then core last. But Mary got bored. She liked variety. So he gave it to her. He could step out of his routine if she needed him to. That would not be a problem.

"Thirty?" She raised her eyebrows in question, and he smiled. He knew she was aware of the fact that he preferred a certain order. She'd done her share of adapting, too. Marshall wasn't a gym rat, but he knew more about working out than she did. He shared his knowledge of safety and how to order the exercises to get the most out of the workout, and she'd learned, peppered him with questions, and quickly rearranged her own workouts with her new information.

"Thirty it is." He punched the information into the machine and started up, glancing around the room to note exactly how many men were currently fixating on his attractive friend. Too many.

He was sweating and breathing heavy by the end of his run. A glance at Mary earned him a smile from her.

"All done?"

"Yup."

"Arms or legs?" It had been a few days since he'd worked out, so it didn't matter which.

"Arms." She nodded affirmatively. "Wanna spar after?"

He could do abs later. "Sure." He knew Mary hated situps.

They'd only been sparring for a few minutes when one of the, he had to assume…feds, just had to throw in his two cents.

"You know, if you always take it easy on her, she'll never learn how to take a punch." The dark-haired man called across the mat.

Marshall opened his mouth to retort, but Mary beat him to it.

"Well the, big boy, why don't you come over here and try to teach me."

"Mary, no." He grabbed her elbow and spoke softly but firmly. "Don't."

"I can take this guy, Marshall." She shrugged off his hand.

"Let's go, girlie." Dark-haired jerk crooned, and Marshall winced. Mary would never let that go.

"Mare, you don't have to do this." He advised. "Come on. Let's just go back to the room."

"Stuff it, Marshall." She wasn't backing down, and he knew it.

Edging over to the side of the mat, he stood nervously watching as they circled each other. It wasn't that he thought she couldn't take care of herself. She could fight with the best of them. He just hated the unknown. He knew her capabilities. He knew her weaknesses. He pushed at her weaknesses, but only so she could defend herself better should he not be around. They had rules, though. He never punched her in the face, nor she him, and she never punched, grabbed, kneed, or kicked him in the groin. Well, she didn't do that on purpose.

She was doing well. She'd landed a few good punches, dodged a few others, and took a direct hit to the chest. She took that no problem. Then Idiot's fist grazed Mary's cheek, and Marshall tightened his own fists as he watched Mary spin around and go down. It didn't make sense. She didn't take that hard a hit. She rolled on her back, and Marshall understood her method. She hooked her legs around The Idiot's and brought him down with a twist, immediately moving her legs into a more secure grip. It was a move he'd taught her.

"That's my girl." He said quietly under his breath. Jiu jitsu was a hobby of his, but it hadn't always been. He'd started taking classes about two and a half years into their partnership. They were friends by then, and sparred on occasion. He realized what a disadvantage she could be in when it came to size and brute strength. The first time he'd pinned her with a joint lock, she'd tapped out and demanded a rematch. And another. Finally, she asked him what it was, and made him teach her. They'd done it again and again until she'd mastered it. From then on he took classes, then went to the gym and taught her what he knew. She was a far superior fighter than most men after all this time, and she knew how to use the fact that she's a girl to her advantage. No one ever suspected they would be bested by a girl. She enjoyed the satisfaction of watching them lose. Frankly, so did Marshall.

The Idiot finally gave up and tapped out, and Mary gave him an "accidental" kick in the gut as she released him.

"Rematch!" He immediately demanded, and Marshall intervened.

"Let's go." He gripped her elbow tighter this time, and she knew he meant business.

"Come on, Marshall, I won." She protested as he marched her back to the dorm.

"Yes. You won." He was seething, but secretly proud. "You did good." Okay. Maybe it wasn't a secret. "But why'd you do it in the first place?"

"He pissed me off." She shrugged.

"And you wanted to prove yourself." Marshall supplied, knowing that being pissed off was far from her only motivation.

"So. What if I did?"

He sat her down on the mattress and rummaged for his first aid kit. Grabbing the plastic bag, he punched it, fiddled with it for a moment, then held it to her cheek.

"Why do you feel like you have to prove yourself to every chauvinist that hollers something rude your way?"

She didn't reply, but he knew the answer anyway.

"Mare?" He removed the ice pack and checked her cheek bone gently with his fingertips. "That hurt?"

She shook her head, no, and he grabbed a towel to wrap the cold pack in.

"Mare, you don't have to prove anything to anyone else." He reapplied the cold pack. "I know you. You've proven yourself to me. They don't matter. Just ignore them."

She was still quiet, but she mulled over his words. He watched as she bit the inside of her cheeks. It was her nervous habit, and he knew it meant she was thinking about what he'd said.

"Fine." She finally spoke.

"Fine?"

"Fine."

"No more challenges from random jerks at the gym?"

"No more challenges from random jerks at the gym." She agreed reluctantly. "But that just means you have to spar with me more." She grinned at him. "I have to kick someone's ass on a regular basis or I get crabby?"

"GET crabby?" He grinned right back.

"Watch it." She warned, but she wasn't mad. Instead she took the ice pack from him and held it herself.

"You want to shower first?" There was a shower between the adjoining rooms.

"I'll wait until this thing dies." She waved the pack at him and watched as he stripped off his shoes and shirt, grabbed his clothes and supplies and sauntered into the bathroom. THAT was a view she didn't mind one bit.

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A/N: that's all for now. There will be more later. Writer's block seems to have lifted. Have a lovely week!


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: Yay! A few people are still reading. That makes me happy. This chapter happened much faster than I'd anticipated. Cheers for writer's block lifting! (cheers) Once again, I own nothing. I get paid nothing for this (and piddling little for anything else). I just have fun with Marshall and Mary, then I go about my actual business. I'm sending virtual hugs to all reviewers and not-so-virtual thanks. (so...THANKS). Shutting up now. Read!_

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After her shower, Mary copied down Marshall's notes into her own handwriting. That made them infinitely easier to read. She'd been studying for a little over an hour when she sensed her partner standing close behind her. Turning her head to glance over her shoulder, she quirked an eyebrow at him in question.

He didn't answer right away; just continued to alternately look at her and her notes. Finally. "What are you doing?"

"I'm studying, Doofus. Aren't you supposed to be some sort of genius or something?"

"Why?" Perhaps this conversation would yield a satisfying answer if posed while they were both sober.

"There's an exam, you know? CE credits?"

"Yeah. I know that." Her explanation left quite a bit to be desired. "But why are you killing yourself like this?"

"I'm hardly dying, Marshall. Don't be so melodramatic." She turned away from him and concentrated on her pen. If she looked in his eyes any longer she'd likely spill and tell him everything. His eyes were too caring. Too concerned. They saw her too well.

"But why all this?" He gestured to the desk, spread with all her notes and highlighters and pens. "Why are you spending this much time on the stuff? You could pass the exam without even going to the lectures. Why all this…effort?"

"I'm not allowed to try?" She failed to meet his questioning gaze.

"That's not what I mean, Mare." He wasn't doing this right. She was going to get defensive if she thought he was attacking her. "I just don't understand, that's all. I thought you'd view this as a vacation or something. Hang out. Sight see. Have fun."

"Exam!" She reminded him.

He realized that the she was actually telling him why, just not in so many words. It was about the exam, sort of. It was about her score on the exam. She wanted to do well. He thought back to their conversation the night before, and her words echoed in his head. _"Some of us have to work a little harder to learn things."_ God. It all made sense. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? They'd never attended one of these seminars together before. There was always some sort of exam. Usually it was merely a perfunctory test of whether or not they had a pulse. Nothing to worry about. But Mary had him for a partner. And he learned things easily. And she wanted to prove she could keep up. That she wasn't outclassed intellectually. So she was working her butt off to learn every last detail – all the little details that she typically relied on him to offer when they were working.

"You want to get a better score than I do." He observed, the cause finally dawning on him.

Her lack of response was as much of an answer than any spoken words could ever be.

Sighing, he sat on the bed and stared a hole in the back of her blonde covered head. Had he done this? Was he responsible for making her feel like she was somehow less than he? He'd wondered about this the night before, but he'd never realized she was worried about actual, physical proof of her fears. She was sitting statue still. Stiff. Nervous. Staring at her paper, but he guessed she wasn't actually seeing it. He reached out and grasped her wrist, fingers easily overlapping as they encased her limb.

"Come here, Mare." He said softly as he gently tugged her arm to get her out of the desk chair. "Come here for a minute." She resisted, but only briefly, then rose and sat beside him as he requested.

"Mary, I'm concerned." He had to be careful with his words. He'd rather cut out his own tongue than offend her. Hurt her. "I'm worried that I have somehow left you feeling like I…like I think I'm…of superior intellect…than are you." It sounded similar to the talk he'd given her yesterday, but chances were pretty good that she didn't remember it. She'd had a lot to drink. He could remind her if she needed. He could remind her every day if that's what it took.

She made no effort to respond, so he took a deep breath and continued.

"This exam…any exam…it's not a measure of intelligence. It's even a poor measure of even what they taught in the seminar. It's nothing. It's not important. It doesn't mean anything at all. Studies have shown that multiple choice exams are not a fair assessment of anyone's knowledge. Essay exams are far superior assessments, but given the scale of the class, are hardly a logical choice for such measures."

She opened her mouth, and he thought she was about to reply, but she clamped her jaw shut quickly with a snap.

"Please talk to me, Mare." He kept his voice low and soft as he grasped her right hand in both of his. "Don't shut me out."

Her gaze fell to her lap, but her eyes flitted over to their clasped hands. Her hand encased in both of his. Gentle hands. Always kind to her. Always caring. Careful. She needed to answer him. He deserved an answer.

"I don't want you to…" She hesitated. "I don't want you to think that I'm…" She didn't finish. It sounded silly to her, and she couldn't bring herself to speak the words aloud. Marshall would never judge her, and she loved him for that. This was not a problem with her partner. This was a problem with herself, and she knew that, too. She usually covered up for her own fears about her shortcomings. Parlayed them into attitude and anger. Channeled her emotions into snark and sass so he would fail to see the real, scared little girl that lurked just beneath the surface.

Marshall closed both of his eyes and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. He gripped her hand tighter in his, and tugged her closer to him, let go with his left hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Mary." He started softly. "You're the smartest person I know, and I'm not just saying that to appease you."

"I know I'm not stupid." She protested, trying to push him away. Her efforts failed, and he held on tightly. "I just…I know…I'm not…you."

"And?" He wanted…needed…her to know how highly he thought of her.

"And…that's it."

"No, it's not." He tightened his arm around her shoulders, and finally allowed himself to kiss her temple. "Tell me." He pleaded softly as his lips brushed gently against her soft skin.

She didn't react to the chaste kiss, and glanced at him without turning her head; eyes uncertain. "Marshall…" Hell, she might as well just tell him. He was giving her sad eyes, and she could never say no to that. "I didn't try that hard at school." He nodded. "I just wonder what would happen if I DID try."

"And?" He prompted.

Damn him. He knows her too well. "And I wanted to at least get a score close to yours." Her competitive spirit roared it's blonde head.

Ah. He was right. Somehow, this didn't make him feel better. "Because?"

"Because I knew you'd ace it without trying."

"And you wanted to prove yourself to me." He hated that she felt she still needed to prove herself to him. How had he not translated his respect to her? This woman, this fierce, bull-headed woman had spent a lifetime trying to prove herself to the world. Prove that she was good enough to love. To accept. To not leave.

She shrugged in response, and he pulled her even closer, abandoning his own concerns for personal safety and kissing her forehead again. She had kissed him first. True, he'd been recently shot, bleeding, and struggling to breathe, but the fact held fast. She'd kissed his cheek. Now he'd returned the favor.

"How about we keep our scores separate. Always." That eliminated all competition. He wouldn't tell her how he did. She wouldn't tell him how she did. They would keep that aspect separate from their relationship.

"Sure." She was stiffening, and he knew he'd have to let go any moment now. "Sounds good."

"Wanna go have some fun?" He knew she was uncomfortable with the seriousness of the conversation, and would desperately want to segue into a new topic. But, if she was going to pull away from him, he was going to fight it.

"Fun?" She made a very "Mary" face at him, and he relaxed a bit.

"You know. Go out. Enjoy ourselves. See the sights." He nudged her shoulder with his own and tried to make her smile. She did.

"Marshall, we're in Quantico, Virginia. There are no sights." She chuckled at him despite herself.

"There's some Marine Corps museum around here." He shrugged. "We could go see that."

"Aren't you dragging me around the Smithsonian all day Saturday?" She turned her face towards him, and he was relieved to see the light dancing in her green eyes.

"And your point being?"

"I'm not spending another day traipsing around another museum on this trip."

"Okay. How about…" He really was out. There wasn't much in this town except for the FBI and the Corps. "Dinner?"

Mary was always up for food. "What kind?"

"Hold on." He grabbed his laptop and typed for a few moments. "Mediterranean?"

She considered it for a moment. "Sure. My treat." She knew she owed him from their foray into alcoholism and local color the previous evening.

"If you want." He'd never hold her to it.

"I don't mind." She'd been keeping track. She owed him. Picking up the tab at that Italian place a few nights ago barely tipped the balance. If she was truly honest with herself, she knew she owed him more than a few meals. He'd been a true friend to her. Her first true friend. Well, her first true friend that wasn't Katie. Oh. Katie. She resolved to fix that relationship as soon as she got back to New Mexico. If her cousin would forgive her, that is. All she could do is try. She couldn't bear having two important relationships in flux at the same time. While she figured out this Marshall thing, she'd at least have Katie to lean on. She needed to lean on Katie for a while. Hopefully her smaller cousin could stand the load a while.

"You with me?" He was ready to go, but she hadn't budged from the mattress.

She met his gaze and swallowed. "I'm going to call Katie when we get back. Make things good."

"Good. I'm glad." He was, too. He liked Katie. And he liked Mary and Katie together. They were good for each other. Mary relaxed around Katie, and Katie was grounded by Mary. Looked up to her. Idolized her. Brandi idolized her, too, but in a largely ineffectual manner.

He reached for her as she stood and fingered her cheek again with soft finger tips. "I don't think it's going to bruise."

"He barely touched me, Marshall. You can stop fussing." A few years ago that would have been _"stop fussing,"_ and a few years before that she would have just ripped his hands off. Today there was no malice or irritation coloring her voice. A slight smile and an appreciative face were his reward today. No fight. No annoyance. Nothing. Just acceptance that he was going to fuss over her occasionally. When had she stopped minding?

She was quiet over dinner, and Marshall could tell she was mulling something over in her head. He let her pay, because he knew she'd fight him on it, and he'd rather accept her generosity than insult her by refusing. He did drive to a coffee shop, though, and ordered them both coffee and desert while she was in the lady's room. He'd already paid by the time she emerged, so there was little argument.

"Who gets the strawberry rhubarb?" The waitress asked cheerfully after Mary was seated.

Marshall noticed the way Mary's eyebrows shot up and her eyes got wider with interest. "She does." He nodded in the direction of his partner.

"Okay." The waitress sat the desert down in front of Mary, and continued. "And is the pecan for you or the sweet potato?" She glanced around the table, but found only the two of them.

"Mare?" He asked, wondering which one she'd want to share.

"Please. Like I could pick." She was waiting to start in on her pie. Waiting until he received his.

"We'll split them both." He informed the waitress. "You can just set them anywhere."

"Okay." She sat the pie pieces down in the center of the table. "I'll be right back with your coffee."

"Pecan and sweet potato?" Mary smirked at him.

"We're south of the Mason-Dixon line." He shrugged and dug his fork into Mary's pie when she shoved it to the center of the table, intending to share it. "It seemed appropriate." He swallowed. "This is good." He pointed to "her" pie and made a face that clearly said "_how is it_?"

"I'm not complaining." She dug into the pecan. "I'm an equal opportunity…uh…pie connoisseur." She chewed for a moment and made an approving sound. "And it's delicious. You have to try it!" Her mouth was full, and Marshall smiled. She was adorable sometimes. Especially when it came to food.

"Sweet potato's good, too." He assured her as he took a sip of coffee. "Have some."

Because he said so, and because she trusted him, she did. Even though the thought of eating a pie made of potatoes made her queasy in the middle, she took a small bite. Her eyes lit up as she savoured the experience.

"Good, huh?" Marshall smiled. He loved it that she trusted him. Cherished the knowledge, and vowed to never do anything to make himself undeserving. "My grandma makes the best sweet potato pie in Texas. Pecan, too. She…" He stopped himself. "Made. She made the best pies."

This was the first Mary had heard him speak of his grandmother. "I'm so sorry, Marshall. Was it recent?"

"No." He reassured her. "Years ago. I just…we were close. I forget sometimes, that's all."

"Yeah?" He nodded. "Tell me about her?" She posed it as a question because she rarely asked him directly about his past. She wasn't sure how he'd react. If he'd acquiesce. Be offended.

"She was great." His voice was soft, and had a wistful quality to it. "Loved her grandsons. All of us. But I always thought I was her favorite." He smiled at the memory, and Mary did as well.

"We'd spend a couple of weeks every summer at her house, and she'd spoil us rotten. When I was really little, my dad got reassigned temporarily for a few months. She insisted I stay with her on the farm instead of "_gallivanting around the country like a hooligan_.""

"It was fun." Mary knew he wasn't in Virginia at that moment. He was back in the Texas hill country, running through fields of blue bonnets chasing a dog named Skip. "She gave me a pistol and a towel for my college graduation. Antique. It'd been hers. It has green mother of pearl on the handle, and the case it came in is matching green leather. She said she was going to give me a gun as green as I am, and she hoped I'd learn to use it right."

"What was the towel for?" Mary inquired curiously.

"To dry behind my ears." He said around a bite.

Mary chuckled at his impression of his beloved grandma. He thickened his accent and smiled in memory.

"And she made pie?" Mary desperately wanted to steer the conversation in a happier direction. She wasn't sure she could deal with sad Marshall right now. She didn't want him to be melancholy.

"The best." He nodded as he took another bite of strawberry rhubarb. "Won every year at the county fair. A couple of times at the Texas State Fair."

Mary was in awe of her partner's idyllic childhood. County fairs and adoring relatives. Pies and farms and dogs. He'd probably had a curfew and been grounded a few times, too. So vastly different from her life. She'd yearned for that normalcy when she was younger. Dreamed of carefree summers and rope swings and swimming holes. Bare feet on warm, hard dirt. Lemonade and popsicles melting down your arm in the muggy heat of summer. What would that be like? She'd met his father, was aware that his life hadn't been the perfect picture she'd held in her head all these years. Still, though, it was hard to shake the image. And if she was truly honest with herself, parts of her that she tried valiantly to bury deep inside still ached for some of that innocence. Simple. Pure. When had her life been any of those things?

They chatted about mundane things while they sipped their coffee and finished up the deserts. Mary took smaller bites and quit earlier because she was a girl, and watching her weight, and because he'd paid. She was trying to be more considerate of him. She wasn't sure if she was doing it right, though. She slept on the floor, but she'd still invaded his space. She made him go the gym with her earlier that day. Sometimes she wasn't a very good friend.

Marshall was watching her face as she slowly chewed. Something was bothering her. She was frowning.

"Mare?"

"I'm sorry." She blurted out.

"You're sorry?" He didn't follow. "For what?"

"I'll move back to my room." She was good at this. She was great at running. "I shouldn't have invaded space like that."

"Why are you leaving?" His heart caught in his throat. Was she upset about last night?

"I…Marshall, where did you sleep last night?"

He paused and considered his options. In the event that she'd awakened during the night, it seemed imprudent to lie to her. Beyond that, he hated the idea of lying to his best friend. "I slept on the bed." He answered her honestly.

"Is that what this is about?" Was she upset with him? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I…the room was cold, and you were on the blanket. I was worried you'd get cold. And I was a little tipsy, and should have known better. I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad at you, Ninny." She tried to relieve some of his tension. "I just should have stayed in my own room the whole time. You shouldn't feel like you have to shelter and feed me, too."

"Mary," He started, and realized he had no idea where to go from there. "I don't feel like I have to do anything. There are things I want to do. There are things I don't mind doing. Being your friend isn't a chore." _It's a privilege._

"Still. I'll move back to my own…"

"No." He cut her off. "Even I can't stand that girl. I can't subject you to that. Not when there's a perfectly reasonable solution that's been working just fine the past few days. If you're uncomfortable, why don't we get an air mattress. And some blankets. And a pillow. I'll take the air mattress. You take the bed. You'll be more comfortable."

It was so perfectly Marshall to insist she stay. To suggest an air mattress. To want her to be comfortable. "No, Marshall."

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Mary." He really didn't mind having her around. She made him laugh. She was his best friend. He loved her company. Welcomed it. Relished it.

"Marshall!" She was exasperated, but had no rebuttal.

"Come on." He urged her to her feet. "Let's go shopping."

"This is ridiculous, you know." She protested all the way to the car. "It's Thursday. We only have three nights left. The floor is fine. I like the floor." Okay, so she didn't actually like the floor. More importantly, she really didn't want to spend the money for an air bed to use for three nights only to have to leave it in Virginia because her suitcase was already too full to take it back with her.

"I'll spring for it." He soothed. "And I'm sleeping on it, too."

"No. It's your room!" She nudged him with her hip. "I'm not kicking you out of your own bed."

"My bed is in Albuquerque." He nudged her right back. "This is just a mattress. And did you or did you not sleep better on the bed last night?"

"I slept better because I was drunk off my ass." She retorted with a snort. "And so were you."

He didn't respond, because she was possibly right. He checked his GPS and smiled. "The closest Target is in Dumfries. Shall we?"

"No. This is silly. It's a wasted expense."

"Then what do you suggest? Hotel? Motel? KOA?"

She laughed, but shook her head. "Nothing. If I'm staying with you, then I still sleep on the floor. You take the bed. You paid for it."

"Yeah. No can do, Mare. My mamma raised me better than that. Let a lady sleep on the floor." He mumbled that last part quietly, and Mary giggled a little.

"No one's ever made the mistake of calling me a lady before." She eyed him evilly, then added. "And lived."

He just smiled.

"I've been on the floor the past…"

"Yeah, well, she'd have my hide if she knew. So let's fix this. Easy fix."

"Nothing's broken, Marshall. Nothing needs fixing."

"I'm not letting you sleep on the floor again, Mare. I can't." He paused. "It can't be good for your back, and I see you shivering at night."

"Well they don't have to chill the place like a fricking meat locker." She grumbled.

"So, if you sleeping on the floor isn't an option, which I'm telling you that it isn't, and moving back in with Blondie McBimbo, as you so artfully named her, is also not an option, and you nixed the hotel idea, what exactly do you propose?"

She sighed because she knew she wasn't going to win this one. He wasn't lying when he said his mamma raised him right. She had. And if Mary ever met the woman, she was going to need to thank her profusely for creating the wonderful creature that was sitting in front of her. "I don't know."

"Well, if you don't want to get the air bed, and I don't want you to leave or sleep on the floor, and you won't let me sleep on the floor, then the only logical solution is for us to share." Marshall offered hesitantly, unsure of how she would respond. Given the impasse at which they found themselves, it seemed the only logical option.

The offer was tempting. The room was cold, and frankly, Marshall was like a furnace. Even without a blanket last night, she'd barely noticed the chill with him wrapped around her. And there was still that little matter of why it was that she almost ached to feel his arms around her again left to explore. She didn't want to get carried away, though, and allow herself to get used to the feeling of him that close to her. Soon enough this seminar would be over and they'd be back in New Mexico, so there was no point in letting herself get that attached. And Marshall was the kind of man she could grow attached to far too quickly, she admitted to herself. She already needed him in her life more than she was willing to admit, so she was hesitant to complicate things even more.

He was waiting patiently for her to answer, but he was secretly elated. She had not turned him down flat. She hadn't hollered at him for suggesting such a thing. She hadn't threatened grave bodily harm. She was thinking about it. Truthfully, it was far from a fabulous solution. The tiny mattress was barely comfortable for him alone, and two fully grown adults would definitely crowd the thing to the point of someone falling out most likely. He immediately planned on putting Mary by the wall to ensure that it would be he who fell out of bed if anyone would. She'd hate being by the wall, though. She'd feel trapped. Caged. Confined. Maybe that was a bad idea after all. Plus, he was a cuddler. He knew this about himself, and knew that should he and Mary fall asleep platonically on the tiny mattress, he would, no doubt, awaken to find himself once more wrapped around his beautiful blonde partner.

"Mare?" He finally asked.

"Hold on, I'm thinking." She was, too, but unfortunately, she was thinking all the wrong things. She was thinking about how nice it had been to be warmed by his body the previous night. How safe she'd felt beside him. How good he smelled sitting next to her in the car. She was thinking all the wrong things.

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_A/N: That's all for now. Sorry. You know the drill._


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: Yay! I got incredibly sweet, kind reviews for chapter 12! Lots of them! That made my day happy! I'm sick today AND I ran into my ex at the hospital, so, keep 'em coming. I could use a pick-me-up! Thanks to everyone who read and triple thanks to all who reviewed. I'm going to to study for my next exam now. The testing never ends! Boo!_

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Marshall searched her face carefully while she mulled it over_. "She's thinking. She's thinking. She's thinking."_ Her words repeated in his head over and over again. It took him seven years, but he'd finally managed to make her think. She had to think about whether or not she would share a bed with him. There was nothing sexual about his offer; it was born purely out of practicality. Still, he thought back to early in their partnership. Before they were friends. Before they were even partners in the truest sense of the word. She wouldn't have had to think about it then. There would have been an immediate "no," followed, and most likely preceded by a string of profanities that could make even the saltiest sailor blush. Now she had to think about it. They had shared a room on occasion in separate beds. She'd fallen asleep on his sofa more times than he could count. They'd even shared a particularly large bed once that he'd aptly named the _USS Sleep_, but its size had been conducive to privacy despite the fact that it had indeed been one single mattress. The fact that she had to take the time to think about his offer tonight meant that the idea of sharing a bed with him was less than repulsive to her.

"If you want me to, I'll stay." She eventually conceded. "But I'm sleeping on the floor."

He tried to keep his face impassive as his heart plummeted to the sole of his shoe. It was better than nothing. She was still close. He could keep an eye on her. Talk to her.

"Okay." He agreed, voice soft in his attempt to mask his disappointment. He knew not to push harder. She'd made up her mind already. Having her in the room was better than nothing. "But you have to promise to wake me up if your back hurts and you want the mattress."

She knew she wouldn't, but she agreed anyway just to appease him. He knew she didn't mean it, and she knew he knew, so the white lie meant nothing to either of them.

"Do you want to do anything before we go back?" He asked her, abruptly turning his face from hers, concerned about conveying the full extent of his disappointment at her rejection. "Shop. Eat more. Whatever." He shrugged and tried to make it look nonchalant, but Mary knew him better.

"I don't need anything." She felt badly, but saw no way around it. In three days the seminar would be over. They would be back in Albuquerque, and things would be back to normal between them. She had no one to blame but herself for this unforeseen turn of events, and she'd be damned if she was going to go and make matters more complicated. Three days. She could last three days. One plane ride, one agonizingly slow trip from the airport – because they'd taken Marshall's car and he refused to budge above the speed limit unless someone's life was on the line. Then she'd be safe and sound inside the comfortable confines of her own home. Alone and unbothered by the potential complications of the world outside, and left to her own devices. She was mentally cataloging all the liquor she had hidden in the house. Scotch behind the fertilizer in the garage, because Brandi would never think to look there. Vodka inside the safe because no one knew the combination except her. Tequila shoved in her bedroom closet on the top shelf wedged between the books on economics and the boring USMS manuals from the academy where Brandi would never bother looking. There was beer in the fridge. Whisky in the cabinet to the left of the kitchen sink for Peter – unless he'd taken it with him. She must be out of bourbon, because she couldn't remember if there was anything tucked behind the cleaning products in the hall closet. She hadn't looked for a few months, and then Jinx moved out.

Marshall fretted over her back at the dorm. He sent her upstairs to grab the pillow and blanket off the bed in the room she was supposed to be sharing. He inspected her cheek again, but did seem satisfied that she would have no bruise. He offered warm clothing for her to sleep in. He attempted persuading her to take the bed once more. Finally, he brushed his teeth and crawled in bed, berating himself all the way for once again taking the comfortable accommodations from his female friend. Mary turned her back to the bed and curled into a ball to retain body heat in the overly chilled room. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed like the temperature was several degrees colder. Whoever was controlling the thermostat was not looking to do her any favors, and she'd pulled on socks and a sweatshirt before bed.

Marshall slept fitfully; partially from heartbreak and partly from guilt. He eyed his partner on the other side of the room. She was still on her right side, so all he could see was blanket and a bit of blonde hair peeping out the top. He tossed in frustration, and considered crawling over next to her. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, willing sleep to overtake him. She could tie him up in knots, scrape him till he bled, and never even know she was doing it. His watch beeped as the hour changed. One a.m. He had to get some sleep. He heard a rustling several minutes later, and peeped one eye open. Mary was standing up. The door to the bathroom closed quietly, and he let out the breath he'd been holding. Neither of them was going to get any sleep tonight, it seemed.

He closed his eyes when the light switched off. The door opened slowly, and he heard her sigh heavily. More rustling. He opened one eye to watch her again. She was looking for something.

"There." He heard her whisper in the dark as she rose to grab the bottle of aspirin he'd purchased the morning before. She dry swallowed the pills and turned, Marshall's one eye flying shut lest she notice him watching her.

A few minutes later, he felt something light settle over him. Cool air moved around him, and he forced himself to not react. Then the mattress dipped, and he was suddenly grateful he was on his side. It was Mary. She climbed in next to him slowly, so she wouldn't disturb him, and pulled the blankets around her. She faced away from him, on the edge of the bed as far away as possible and willed herself to relax. Sleep would be elusive for her even with the pills.

Marshall focused on keeping his breathing even. Mary was squirming and trying not to squirm at the same time. Finally he could take it no longer.

He gathered his courage and whispered in the darkness. "You okay?"

"Cold." Came her monosyllabic reply. A few moments later. "Is this okay? Did I wake you?"

"You're fine." He wanted to hold her. "And I was up."

She continued squirming; rolling first onto her back, then back on her side facing away from him.

"Are you okay?" He reached a hand for her, but pulled it back before he touched her.

"I'm fine." Her reply was shaky in the darkness.

"You took some aspirin."

"Jesus, you've been watching me?" She rose on her elbow and craned her neck to look at him.

"I think the sink woke me." He lied, but it was believable. He was a light sleeper, and she knew it.

"Sorry." She mumbled, and flopped down on the bed.

"Aspirin?" He repeated, hoping for an explanation.

There were a few minutes of quiet before her voice broke through the darkness. "I was cold." A pause, and he frowned. NSAIDs don't help with cold. "And my back hurts."

His frown deepened now, because he'd learned that _"my back hurts"_ was Mary-code for _"I just started my period."_ This was one of the few times she would admit to being in pain, so he knew it was serious. She didn't have abdominal cramps like most women. For her, the pain was all in her lower back, and he'd learned that it could be excruciating at times. Thus the aspirin.

"Do you have everything you need?" He asked her quietly.

"I'm fine." Her voice was sharp, and he knew it was embarrassment. The familiar twinge in her lower back a few minutes before had been all manner of unwelcome, and she cursed herself for going off the birth control pills. They lessened the pain, but she hated the weight gain. She wasn't seeing anyone, hadn't picked up anyone in months, and frankly saw them as a wasted expense. So, rather than calling in a refill a few months ago when she was out, she'd just gone without. Now she was paying for it. And her partner knew. Humiliation was not an emotion she wore well.

This explained why she was so restless, and Marshall had an idea. "Did you pack your heating pad?" He'd seen her laying on it once before at her house when she said that her back hurt. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. Sore muscles could be relaxed with heat. He hadn't questioned her. He put it together now, though.

"God, Marshall, what's with you? Let it go!" She snapped at him, annoyed that he knew her on this intimate level.

"Do you need one?" He pushed, knowing he was wandering in dangerous territory, but his concern for her outweighed his self preservational instincts. "There's a twenty four hour pharmacy not far from here. I can get you whatever you need."

"Drop. It." She warned angrily.

"Why?"

"Because we're not having this conversation." She stressed "not."

"Mary…" He was confused. "I don't understand. You tell me about the guys you have sex with, but this – something completely natural and healthy, something I can possibly help you with – this you won't talk to me about?"

"Marshall!"

"Mary!" He mimicked.

"I cannot have this conversation with you." She was mortified.

"Why?"

He had a point. She did tell him the sordid details of her sexual encounters. She let him into the secrets of her past. But she couldn't accept his assistance, whatever that is, with this…problem she was having. God, she hated being a girl sometimes.

Marshall frowned when she didn't answer him, and then gathered his nerves and reached out one hand to her shoulder. "Roll over." He urged.

"What?" Her reply was high-pitched in surprise.

"Roll on your stomach for a few minutes."

"Why?" She challenged him, rolling into a ball instead.

"Trust me." He kept his voice calm. "I have an idea."

His hand was still on her shoulder, and he felt the conflict in her. He also felt it when she agreed because she relaxed under his fingers, scooted toward him, and rolled onto her stomach.

"What?" She turned her head to ask him, but he didn't reply verbally.

Instead of telling her, he reached out and cautiously rubbed his hand over her lower back. Not too low, but still in the vicinity. The friction should result in heat, which might relax something. If nothing else, a nice back rub could distract her from her discomfort. He stayed where he was, though, on his side. To do this right, he'd need to straddle her, or at least stand beside her. Use both hands. She'd respond poorly to that, though, so he settled for one hand.

"Try to relax." He urged, rubbing between her shoulder blades, then lower. "Where's it hurt most?"

He was surprised when she didn't push him away. Tell him to keep his hands to himself. It told him something about the amount of pain. His own version of the Wong-Baker pain scale. If Mary admits to it, it must be edging around an eight. If she admits to pain and lets him try to physically diminish it, then it must be closer to a ten.

She gestured vaguely to her entire lower back and spoke into the pillow. "The whole area. Hurts like a bitch."

He though back over the past few months. Over the years he'd learned the subtle signs. He could chart her cycle, tell when she was in pain, and understood what was happening. She carried a purse with her. Took more bathroom breaks. Wore jackets with pockets that were full in the morning, and curiously empty by the end of the day. Popped pain killers for a few days. He hadn't noticed her being in this much pain for a while, though.

"You're in more pain than normal." He observed, and she knew it was a question even though he hadn't posed it as such.

"Stopped taking the pill." She shrugged, and her voice was still muffled as she spoke into the pillow.

Marshall didn't try to hide the smile. "_The pill_" meant the oral contraceptives. She'd stopped taking them. That meant she hadn't been with another man for a while, because Mary was fanatical about contraception.

"Is this helping?"

"I don't know." She answered him honestly. "Maybe."

Because he could tell she wasn't lying to him, he scooted closer for a better angle and continued.

"Why'd you stop taking them?" His curiosity got the better of him.

"Don't need 'em." Her voice was sharper, and he knew he needed to tread lightly.

"But if they help with the pain, then…" He trailed off. Basically, he just hated to see her hurting. She had enough emotional pain in her past to last a lifetime, and there was little he could do for that. Seeing her in physical pain hurt him, and he questioned why she'd stop taking a drug that alleviated some of the pain.

"Jesus, Marshall." He was nosy tonight, but the massage felt nice on her lower back, so she answered him. "Weight gain!"

He furrowed his brow, and tried to remember if she'd seemed to be eating less. He knew weight gain was a side effect of oral contraception. "You don't need to lose weight." He paused, realizing he had no idea when she stopped taking them. This could be construed as an insult if he wasn't abundantly clear. "And you didn't six months ago, either." That way she couldn't tell him that she didn't need to loose weight now because she'd already lost it all. Bases covered.

"Marshall…" She started, but he cut her off.

"Hey, I'm just saying. I'm a guy. I notice things. You…" He punctuated the "you" by running his hand up her spine and gripping her shoulder lightly. "Do not need to worry about weight."

He wove his hand into her hair and massaged her scalp for a minute, and heard the quiet moan of contentment. She liked that. He kept it up for a few minutes, and heard her sigh.

Mary was in heaven. She never let a man touch her like this. She paid for a massage on occasion, but that was business. This was different. He worked the kinks out of her neck for her sometimes, but he always made sure his fingers never strayed from her neck. This was glorious, and she couldn't keep the sigh from escaping. Her back still hurt, but this gave her something else to concentrate on. As good as it felt, though, her back was killing her, and she squirmed.

"Get comfortable." He urged her. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Can't get comfortable on this tiny…" She huffed as she rolled over, searching for a position that would alleviate some of the discomfort.

"Do you want me to go?" He offered. "That way you can have more room."

"No." She shook her head as she settled on her left side, facing him. "You're warm. That's why I'm up here in the first place." She laughed wryly before finishing. "Is it my imagination, or did the temperature in here drop twenty degrees after we went to bed?"

It was cool in the room, but he didn't notice it too much. Mary was more sensitive to cold, though, so he understood that it was affecting her more.

"It does seem a bit cooler." He agreed and reached to settle the blankets around her shoulder. They were off-center after her search for a comfortable position. Their hands brushed as he gripped the blanket, and he gasped. "Mare, your hands are like ice."

He hadn't planned on this, but he did it anyway. Spur of the moment, and he grabbed her hand and held it flat against his chest, covering it with his hand. The cold seeped through his tee shirt for a moment before it started to feel warm again. He forgot sometimes that she was considerably smaller than him. Her personality made her seem large; and she was tall. She just wasn't male, and didn't generate that much body heat on her own.

"You were cold?" He murmured after he'd released her now-warm hand. They were somewhat awkwardly facing each other now.

"Yeah." She admitted quietly. "I'm better now. I can go."

"No need." He bravely reached around and continued rubbing her back. "Your back still hurts. And it's still warmer here."

She tensed, relaxed, and moved to settle a little closer to him. He could feel her breath on his chest through his shirt and he continued his ministrations.

They'd been silent for a while, and he wondered if she'd fallen asleep before her voice broke through the darkness.

"I hate being cold."

The hand rubbing circles on her back paused, then moved again, but he didn't speak, sensing that she wasn't finished.

"It reminds me of the winter in the car."

He had an inkling of what she was talking about, and moved a few centimeters closer to her.

"I was thirteen, I think. Maybe fourteen." He was working tension out of her neck now. Between her shoulders. "We'd gotten evicted from the apartment we'd been staying in."

Marshall's heart broke for her a little more as he figured out where the conversation was headed.

"New Jersey winters are a bitch, and Jinx wasn't working. She hadn't found a new boyfriend to scam cash off of." Mary hmphed, and Marshall's breath hitched with the idea of unknown dangers. "At least we had a place to stay when she had a boyfriend." Mary could still remember falling asleep in the back seat with Brandi on top of her, trying to keep her baby sister warm. Doing laundry in the sink at the gas station, and waking up to frozen, not dry, underwear laid out in the back of the car.

Her mind wondered back to that cold New Jersey winter. Jim kicked them out in late November, just before Thanksgiving when the winter chill was really setting in. Squish had cried because she wasn't going to get any turkey that year, and Mary spent part of her savings on a turkey sandwich from a diner so her baby sister could have a Thanksgiving dinner. Christmas had been a bigger trick. There was no tree. No stockings. Not that there really ever was, but Brandi was old enough to know the difference now. She understood that the other kids at school had loving families and warm houses decorated with lights and bows and tinsel-covered trees. Mary broke a branch off a pine tree in the park and stuffed it in the snow beside the car right there in the parking lot on Christmas Eve. There were no ornaments, and the only presents were the ones that Katie brought over. She came bearing cookies and chips, and the only presents they got that year were the socks and chapstick that Katie bought them with her allowance.

Katie had been a godsend, literally. Mary was sure they'd have starved to death that winter without Katie. She smuggled food out of her house as often as possible, and handed it off on the way to school in the morning. She had the girls stay over at the house a few nights a week, as often as her mother's live-in-boyfriend would allow. That meant heat, food, and a warm shower. The shower was a special treat, and it sure beat sponge baths in cold water in the dingy bathroom at the gas station.

"Her mom's boyfriend caught her smuggling food a few times, and she got in so much trouble." Mary's voice caught, and Marshall was afraid that he understood what she wasn't saying. "I mean, it was never that much. Chips. Candy bars. Cookies. Fruit when they had it. Sometimes sandwiches, but I think she just gave us hers."

Marshall made a mental note to hug Katie the next time he saw her. Thank her for helping Mary.

"She even did our laundry whenever she could." Mary was still talking, but her voice was devoid of emotion. Autopilot. She'd never told this to anyone before. "She gave us everything she could. Toys for Brandi. A few spare blankets she thought her mom wouldn't miss. She gave Brandi her own sweater just because she thought she looked cold one morning. Took it right off, bundled her up right there on the sidewalk, and sent her off to school." Mary's voice still held awe as she thought about it. Katie was the first person in her life that was nice to her without asking for anything in return, and she still wasn't quite certain how to react to that kind of generosity.

"How long did you live in that car?" Marshall needed to know, but he was afraid to find out.

"We got a place in the middle of January." She was fiddling with the blanket and staring at his chest with unseeing eyes. "Jinx met…someone. I don't remember who. We stopped keeping track after a while."

"Did you always live in the same town?"

"No." She shook her head a little and frowned. "We moved away for about two years when I was eight. Moved back right before my tenth birthday. Then we moved again when I was in high school, but just for a few months."

"Katie said you checked her homework every night."

"Phone." She shrugged. "Bike. Bus. There's always a way."

"You guys were close." He observed.

"She's family." Mary shrugged like it was nothing, but Marshall knew she'd do anything for her favorite relative.

Mary was starting to feel self conscious about lying in bed facing her partner. He still had his arm draped around her midsection rubbing her back, and Mary was contemplating hiring him as her full-time masseuse. Masseur? She could never remember.

"Do you need anything?" He half whispered in the darkness.

She was quiet, but he could tell by the look on her face that there was something wrong. Something she needed. "Tell me." He urged.

"I think the aspirin I swallowed is lodged in the back of my throat and currently eating a hole in my esophagus."

"One bottle of water, coming up." Marshall crawled over top of her and retrieved the beverage.

Mary eyed his pajama pants warily. "Marshall?" She asked him as he crawled back into bed.

"Hmm?"

"Are those Batman pj's?"

"Why, yes they are. Thanks for noticing."

She breathed out a laugh before asking. "Do you keep them in the drawer with the Superman and Spiderman pj's, too? Is there a separate drawer for Wonder Woman and Aqua Girl, or is this a co-ed type drawer experience?"

"I don't have Superman pajama's, thank you very much." He cheekily defended his sleepwear. "I only have Batman."

"Really?" Mary sounded unconvinced.

"Yes, really."

"Why is that?" Mary didn't quite believe him.

Marshall smiled, and Mary knew she was in for a lengthy lecture on comic book history.

"Because Batman is far superior to all other comic heroes." He paused and waited for her to bite. He didn't have to wait long.

"Because?"

"Because, unlike other comic heroes, Batman does not possess an inherent super power."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut and smiled. "He doesn't?"

"No." Marshall squeezed her shoulder before sliding his hand behind her neck to continue the half-hearted massage. "Batman, otherwise known as Bruce Wayne, was orphaned as a child. His parents were murdered, and he witnessed it. They were rich, and he inherited the money. As an adult, he builds a company and uses the R&D division to create new and improved tools with which he fights crime on the streets of Gotham City."

"And the others…?"

"Spiderman was bitten by a radioactive spider, thus his superpowers." Marshall's true, nerdy self was shining through, and Mary smiled. She liked this side of Marshall, even though she gave him crap for it. "Superman is really an alien from the planet Krypton. The Incredible Hulk was a scientist who was trying to build a better soldier. He injected himself with the serum they were experimenting on, and his superpowers began. The Green Lantern has a powerful ring that imparts power to him. Captain Marvel is struck by a magic lightning bolt that…"

"Marshall?" Mary interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"I get it. Batman was bitten, hit, injected, or otherwise injured to gain his powers."

"No, that's not quite it." He was combing his fingers through her hair again, marveling in the increased level of intimacy between them. "He has no superpower. He's just an ordinary guy with a heightened sense of justice. He fights to make the streets of Gotham City safer. It's his own time. His own money. His own crusade. He's nothing special. Just a regular guy."

"Like you." Mary understood. Her own personal Batman.

"If you say so." He felt humbled that she understood. "And I don't have any female superhero pajamas." He corrected.

"Oh, no?"

"No." He chuckled. "But I can get you some if you'd like."

She chuckled, but it was interrupted by a yawn. "Excuse me."

"Sleep." He commanded gently as his fingers curled around the curve of her rib cage. How long had he dreamt of a night like this. Curled together in a bed, under blankets, just talking in the dark until they fell asleep. And it was even better than the night before, because she was climbed into bed with him completely sober. So she was using him for his body heat. She wasn't pushing him away, so he wasn't going to complain. He'd give her whatever she needed. He always did. She was actually very relaxed in his arms as he wove his fingers through her long hair. He'd learned three important things about Mary Shannon tonight. (1) She didn't mind being close to him. (2) She didn't mind it if he touched her. And most importantly if her contented sighs were any indication, (3) He could instantly relax her just by playing with her hair.

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_A/N: That's all for now. I have to study. Lots of case studies to read, questions to answer. You get the idea. _


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: Yay. Reviews. I love reviews. Thank you! Here's chapter 14. Not much else to report. Enjoy. And don't sue. No one's getting paid here!_

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Mary awoke feeling marginally worse than she'd felt when she fell asleep. Her back was hurting again, but it was pressed against Marshall, and he was keeping it warm. Keeping her warm. Her thoughts drifted back to the night before, and she tightened her lips when she remembered telling her partner about one of the worst parts of her past. He hadn't responded much verbally. He'd asked a few questions, pried only centimeters deeper. Digging wasn't really required since she'd already sliced herself open for her to see. He had held her close all night long kept her covered with the blankets, and murmured quiet things in languages she couldn't identify in her haze of almost-sleep. Now she wondered what he'd said. What secret things had he whispered to her?

Contemplating their present positions nearly brought on a panic attack. She didn't like to cuddle. Didn't like feeling confined by a man. Held down. Tangled. But Marshall wasn't just a man. He wasn't any man. He was her friend. Her confidant. Her partner. The man who knew her, really saw her, and still he came back. He still had her back. Rubbed her back when it hurt. Brought her coffee when she was tired. Tossed her granola bars during stakeouts just because he knew she liked the ones with chocolate chips. He watched her favorite movies with her. Drank her favorite beer. He knew her shoe size. Her greatest fears. Her daddy issues. Her tendencies toward violence and anger. And he still waited with a gentle smile and arms that would comfort her if she needed it.

Her back was flush against his chest, both of his arms wrapped around her. His breath tickled the back of her neck with each exhale. She tensed immediately on instinct, then breathed out slowly as the tension abated. It was Marshall. She was fine. Confused, but fine. Content, and fine. She stayed where she was, and tried to learn to enjoy the sensation of warm intimacy. This wasn't about sex, which made it different than almost every other morning that she'd awakened to find herself in bed with a man. Well, except Raph, but the thrill of that relationship had ended long before the relationship itself took a nose dive. This was more intimate, somehow, and she was not a woman used to true intimacy. This was about temperature, friendship, and probably something else, but she wasn't thinking about that right now. She wondered if she could get used to the feeling of being pressed tight against her partner in the morning. Warm arms felt nice around her. Physical comfort from another person felt a little foreign to her. Marshall hugged her sometimes, and it was always nice, but this was different. She wasn't upset. No fear. No tears. No real reason for her to be laying here, enjoying the warm, manly scent of him. Intimacy without sexual gratification. A man she could share all the scary, ugly parts of her life to and not worry about his response. She had to get out of here.

Mary struggled to find a way out of her partner's arms, only to be thwarted by him tightening them even more. She pushed against him, and he pulled her closer and relaxed his grip once she was settled where he wanted her. He murmured something she doubted was English into her hair, and Mary decided that she could get used to this man holding her if he always spoke to her in foreign languages in his sleep.

"Mare?"

She felt his lips move against her hair. "Hmm?"

"Do you need up?"

"No." The word slipped out of her mouth before she could censor it. Damn. Just a moment ago she'd been looking for an escape.

"Mmkay." He hummed, relieved to have her still beside him. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, because he was half convinced that once he did she'd disappear like vapor. The physical proof of her proximity beneath his hands was comforting. She felt warm. Soft. Like a woman. She smelled like Mary. Some combination of her laundry detergent, soap, and what he assumed was the fading reminiscence of her body wash and citrus lotion. Clean. Fresh. Not too girly, but girly enough.

He brushed her hair gently off her face, and fingered the strands to their ends.

"Marshall?" She finally gathered her wits about her and spoke.

"Mmmhmm?"

"What are we doing here?" She wasn't sure she actually wanted him to answer.

"Staying warm." It wasn't the whole truth, but he figured she'd prefer it to the alternative.

"Staying warm?"

"Are you cold?" His eyes were open now, and he reminded himself to imprint this moment on his memory should the situation never repeat itself.

"Umm. No?" Not really a question, but not a statement, either.

"Success." His eyes slid shut again, and shifted her against him.

"That's it?"

"How's your back?" He ignored her question, and slid his hand down her side softly to rest on her waist.

"Better." She nodded, liking the way his hands felt on her despite herself. Marshall was not her usual type. He was not what she thought she'd been looking for. He was thin and lanky where she preferred muscular. He was nerdy and sweet where she generally sought out brainless jerks. He was supportive and gentle when she needed it, but she tended to gravitate towards caustic and tough. He was tough and understanding when the men she dragged home never stayed long enough for her to find out what they were. He stood up to her, challenged her, and then picked her back up when she stumbled, and she trusted him enough to be standing there beside her when she fell without ever having to glance over her shoulder to assure herself of his presence. He was Marshall, and he'd grown on her quietly. Organically. Without her even noticing it, he had made himself the person upon whom she could depend. The person she didn't even know she needed. The person she didn't want to be without lest she chance a misstep and skin her already scarred knees.

But they could nary afford to embark on this journey that she was considering. She would ruin it. She would ruin him. She would use him up and turn him into an empty shell of the man she wanted to wake up next to tomorrow morning. And the day after. She would hurt him. Fail him. And he would find her lacking.

"Stop thinking whatever it is that you're thinking." Marshall murmured quietly into her hair, voice lower and thickened with sleep. "You're tensing up. Just relax. Be."

"Be what?" Mary didn't do poetry. She never understood symbolism. For her, the sky was just blue. Linking verbs were exactly that…links. Not subject and verb.

"Just be. Exist. Accept."

"You need to buy a vowel." Mary ribbed him, but tried to force herself to relax anywhere just because he asked it of her.

"I don't need anything." She felt his head shake a negative, and shivered at the implications. He mistook her shiver for cold and moved his hand from her hip to tuck their layered blankets closer to her.

"Better?"

"Everything's fine, thanks."

They'd have to get up soon. Time would not suspend, the earth would continue spinning on its axis. It would revolve around the sun just as the moon revolved around it. And Marshall's world would continue to revolve around Mary while she revolved around pain, loss, and abandonment, and continued rushing headlong down her self-destructive path. Marshall pondered the mathematical implications of two objects inexorably tied together. Was it possible for two objects to orbit only each other? Become the center of their collective universe? What if there were outside forces acting on those objects? What became of them then?

The alarm went off loudly on Marshall's phone, and Mary groaned and his heart flipped inside his ribcage. Was it the sound she made or the end of his fantasy? He wasn't sure. She reached out to grab the phone, and Marshall wondered if she'd fling it against the wall. He was having thoughts of doing just that right now, but she only silenced it and set it back down.

"We have to get up."

He didn't want to. Reality was as unwelcome in his life today as would be a barrel of poisonous scorpions loosed in his house. Maybe he'd prefer the scorpions. Then he'd have an excuse to show up at Mary's house and sheepishly request to stay with her. Forever.

The phone beeped again, and Marshall reached across her to grab it and shut it off.

"Wanna shower first?" He murmured into her hair.

"I'll hurry." She hadn't moved yet. "Do you want to grab breakfast after?" They were up in time to eat if they both hurried.

"And coffee." He agreed. "So scoot." Levity might make the morning less awkward.

Mary was out of the shower in six minutes flat, and Marshall had to hurry into the bathroom to hide his reaction to the sight of her, still dripping with water, wrapped in a blue terrycloth robe that didn't come down to her knees.

"Your turn." She grabbed her lotion off the window sill and Marshall smothered a groan and decided that he wanted to be the one to smear it all over her.

"Out in a sec!" He called as he shut the door, leaning against it with eyes closed. Maybe he should have let her go back to her own room. But they were getting closer. Mary had directly asked him about something from his childhood last night. She's shared without provocation something painful about hers. She'd slept peacefully in his embrace, and she'd stayed there when she'd awakened. There were days, and this was going to be one of them, that he ached to take her pain away. Erase it from her memory, and shower her in love and honesty and happiness. She'd been through too much, and had borne it alone for far too long.

Mary heard the water switch off and grabbed her shirt, shoving it over her head hurriedly. Marshall emerged a few minutes later in jeans and his undershirt. Mary appreciated her partner from the corner of her eye as she combed through her wet hair and squeezed out the excess water with her towel.

"You need long?" Marshall was pulling on his boots already.

"Two minutes." She hurried around, pulled her wet hair into a ponytail, then took it down and slid the elastic band on her wrist. A little moisturizer on her face, and she was done. Notebook. Pen. Check.

"Ready."

They hit up the breakfast buffet in the back of the conference room, and Mary laughed when her partner got excited about grits.

"You don't understand, Mare." He was dishing ladle after ladle into a bowl. "You can't get these in New Mexico. My mom made this for breakfast every Sunday."

"Why?" She eyed the yellow lumpy mixture warily. "I thought your mom liked you?"

"It's good. Trust me." He promised her, sprinkling in bacon bits. "You have to try it."

"I…okay." She agreed, and her stomach turned. She loaded up on fruit salad and grabbed a pastry.

They sat in their usual location toward the back, and she sat her plate on the chair. "Coffee?"

"You know it." Marshall was busy dumping pats of butter and adding salt and pepper to his unappetizing-looking breakfast concoction.

"It probably tastes like ass." She informed him as she handed him the cup. "It smells like it."

"My favorite." He said humorlessly. "Just the way I like it."

"Yeah." She wrinkled her nose and took a sip. "It's hot and caffeinated."

"Here." Mary turned and found Marshall holding out his spoon to her. "Try it."

"You're kidding me?" She wasn't the type to let a man feed her.

"It's good. I promise."

"It looks like…"

"Fine, it's okay. They're instant grits, so not the best. But I'll buy some real ones, take 'em back, and make you the good stuff when we get home."

"Try it." He urged, not at all surprised when she grabbed the spoon from him rather than just leaning forward and taking a bite.

She chewed thoughtfully, and met his eyes. The texture was not unlike cream of wheat, but it was savory and…good.

"You like?"

"Not bad." Mary shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly.

"I can make better." He assured her.

"Alright, sports fans!" The overly infantilizing speaker interrupted their meal, and Marshall smiled at Mary's quiet "_Kill!"_

"Down, girl." He whispered in her ear with a grin. "Too many witnesses."

Mary was amazed at how easily they slipped into their "we just work together" roles. She took notes. He doodled on the side of her notes. They played tic-tac-toe again. At the first break, Marshall grabbed her arm and led her out of the conference room.

"Let's play hooky." He urged.

Mary fixed him with a glare and felt his forehead with the back of her hand. "Are you ill?"

"No. I'm bored. Let's play hooky."

"And do what, exactly?"

"Whatever." He shrugged. "You wanted to see the ocean. Let's go." It was the perfect compromise. Beach today, capitol Saturday.

"No."

"No? Mare? Why?"

"The exam is tomorrow."

"I'll study with you." He compromised.

"And the material from today?"

"Mary, is there really anything that's been said this week that you didn't already know? That we don't already know?"

There was not. Or at least, there wasn't much. Having Marshall the walking encyclopedia for a partner had advantages.

"Then let's get out of here." He tried a different tactic. "You know how you said you'd never really tried at school? I've never played hooky. Play hooky with me."

"How far is it to the beach?"

"Depends." He shrugged. "Is Chesapeake Bay sufficient, or do you want Atlantic? Because it's two and a half hours to the Bay, and three and a half to the ocean. You pick."

"What's the Bay like?"

"Nice." He shrugged. "But you want the real thing. Come on."

"I need to change clothes." She protested.

"Me, too." He handed her the room key. "I'll be right there." He wanted to hit up a vending machine before they headed out.

Mary grabbed shorts, running shoes, a sports bra. She should have thought ahead and brought sandals or something. And a swim suit. Not that she really wanted to be in a swim suit around her partner.

Marshall came in and smiled at Mary. "You ready?"

"I don't have sunscreen." She frowned. "Or a hat."

"We can stop along the way." He reasoned. "Pick up what we need."

"Towels. We don't have beach towels."

"We'll get 'em." This was a good idea. Mary was beaming. Radiating excitement.

He drove the three and a half hours to Rehoboth Beach and she let him. They stopped at a store in town and bought suits, towels, and sunscreen. Mary bought sandals and hats for each of them. She laughed at Marshall's bright green swim trunks, and he told her they were the same color as her eyes. She blushed, and hoped she looked okay in the suit she'd purchased. It was well past noon when they finally made it to the beach. He stripped off his tee shirt and toed off his shoes, burying his toes in the warm sand. The beach was mostly deserted at this time of year; school had reopened already. Grabbing the sunscreen from the shopping bag, he rubbed it on his face, arms, and chest. The last thing he needed was a major burn, and the sun was bright and hot overhead.

Mary was just standing. Still. Staring at the ocean with an indiscernible look on her face. He had too much sunblock on his hands, so he reached out and took one of her arms, rubbing the extra into it. Extra care on her shoulder. A little more sunblock, and he continued with the other arm. She had yet to acknowledge him or his efforts.

"Mare?" He was behind her, hands on her shoulders.

"I didn't think I'd remember." Her whisper was nearly carried away on the sea breeze that blew her hair gently.

"Didn't think you'd remember what?"

"Everything."

"Tell me." He urged, then tapped one finger on the hem of her tank top. "I'll put sunscreen on your back for you." She was pale. Blonde. Had a tendency to burn easily. She woodenly took her tank off and tossed it on his beach towel.

"Tell me." He asked again as he moved her hair across her shoulder and worked the lotion into the soft, smooth skin of her back.

"We used to get this rental place in Jersey sometimes." Her voice was far away. "Summers sometimes, but usually in the off-season. Daddy said it was because he liked the beach when it was quiet, but I think it was because we couldn't afford it otherwise."

He noticed she called him "Daddy." She never did that.

"We'd walk along the shore in the morning and pick up sea glass and shells. He'd tell me stories or I'd ride on his shoulders. It was before Brandi was born, and once after, but she was only a few months old. He left not long after we got back." Her voice was heavy with emotion that she hadn't planned on feeling.

Marshall was content that her back wouldn't burn, and moved to stand right behind her. Almost touching, but just not. She'd know he was there if she needed him.

"I haven't been to the Ocean since."

"What about Mexico?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"Pacific." She shrugged. "It's different. Here, it's…I don't know. Familiar." Strange. She'd never been to this beach before, but the small beach houses, the old dunes covered in sea oats. It was all the same. Deserted.

"It's the salt." Marshall supplied in her ear.

"Salt?"

"From the ocean. It's in the air. The smell. Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory. It takes you back."

"It's the salt." She agreed quietly and inhaled with closed eyes, then tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder. She knew he was there.

"I'm sorry." She murmured.

"Sorry for what?" He grabbed her arms and wrapped them around her stomach, his on top of hers. It made the gesture more acceptable.

"You brought me all the way out here, and now I'm…"

"Remembering." He added when she faltered.

"Yeah." He was sticky and a little slimy from the lotion, but chances were pretty good that she was, too. Rivulets of sweat ran down her back – or his chest – where they were touching. His sweat or hers? The distinction hardly mattered.

"You're allowed to remember."

"I don't want to." She shook her head. "I'm tired of remembering."

"Tell me what you need." He tightened his arms around her.

"I need to let him go."

Marshall nodded, but said nothing. He hadn't figured the conversation would lead here, and he had no wisdom to offer. This was something she needed to work through in her own way.

"I don't know how." She said after a few minutes of quiet.

"I have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"More symbolic than anything, but the act itself may carry a degree of catharsis."

"Just tell me." She turned in his arms, and he let go, then gripped her upper arms.

"Write what you want to say in the sand. Let the tide wash it away." Let the tide was the pain away.

"Will it work?" So like Mary to want a guarantee. A promise.

"It's a start."

"So there's more?" She tipped her face and tilted her neck to look at him with a frown.

"I'm sure there will be more." Her eyes were brilliant green in the sunshine. "You can't just walk away from memories. But you can decide to not let them define you anymore."

"That simple?"

"Nothing worth doing is ever simple." He tugged her toward him and let her cheek fall against his bare chest. "But you don't have to do it alone."

"Then what do I do?" She liked the way he held her.

"Then you tell me when you need a friend, and we'll figure the rest out together."

She nodded, and her head bumped the underside of his chin.

"Sorry." She smiled sheepishly up at him.

"Ready?"

"Got a stick?"

He glanced around them, then walked a few yards away. "How's this?" He held up a piece of shell.

"That'll do." She walked toward the surf and knelt in the moist sand. Marshall sat on his towel and watched, leaving her in privacy to write out her pain. It took a while. She wrote half a novel before she stood and turned to watch the waves lap on the sand. She spun around after a few minutes and marched back to the towels. Marshall had spread hers out already, and she plopped down on it unceremoniously.

"Sunscreen?" She held out her hand, and he dropped the bottle in her open palm. "Thanks." She stripped her shorts off carefully; tried to not take the bottoms off with them, and made sure the front of her didn't burn as well. She fashioned her ponytail into more of a bun, and put her ball cap on to protect her face.

"Wanna swim?"

"You don't want to watch?" He gestured to the words she'd etched in the sand.

"Nope. I want to move on." She stood and tossed her sunglasses on the towel. "And I want to swim."

"Okay." Mary's words gave him hope. Mary in that swimsuit gave him something else entirely.

Mary dove headlong into a wave, as graceful as a dolphin. The water was still warm, and Marshall waded in not quite as in love with the water as his mermaid of a partner. She stood and faced him.

"Come on!" She looked ten years younger dripping with water and grinning ear to ear. "Body surf?"

"Race you?" No one challenged Mary Shannon and expected her to back down.

Marshall had more fun playing like a child in the ocean that day than he could remember having in recent years. Combined. Mary was carefree. Affectionate. She grabbed his hand, climbed on his back and tried to dunk him. She splashed him and laughed heartily when he splashed her right back. He lifted her easily and tossed her into the deeper surf, then patted her back when she choked on water from laughing too hard. Her nose was getting red. So were her cheeks and her shoulders. It was time to dry off for a minute.

"You need sunscreen." He pointed to her shoulder. "You're going to burn."

"You, too." She tapped his nose with her index finger, and he felt the familiar warmth of sunburn.

They toweled off, reapplied, and lounged for a few minutes until Marshall's stomach grumbled in protest of lack of food.

"Feed me!" He squealed in a comic voice, and Mary laughed.

"Lunch?" She glanced around the boardwalk and found a diner. "There?"

"Before I die? Yes. My stomach's saying howdy to my backbone." He slipped his shirt on and shoved the hat she got him on his head backwards.

"God, you dork." Mary tipped the hat off by the brim. "Not a look you can pull off."

He grinned at her and settled the hat on right. She slipped on her shorts and sandals, but didn't bother with her top.

They ate burgers and split fries and a chocolate milkshake.

"Oh, here." Marshall grabbed one of the shopping bags and pulled out the bag of M&Ms he'd bought at the vending machine earlier. "Split 'em with you?"

They split the half-melted candy, and Marshall laughed when Mary arranged them in piles by color and number; then slowly ate them down from most to least. Just like he did. She squeezed one between her thumb and forefinger just to watch the chocolate squish out, then licked her finger clean completely aware of Marshall's eyes focused on her mouth. Hey. She could flirt, too.

"Do you want to head back or walk around?" Marshall was leaning back in the booth nibbling on chocolate candies.

"It's up to you." She was good. Having fun for the first time in forever. He was right about writing things on the sand. The tide came in, washed them away, and carried off some of her pain. Some of it. It was a start.

"Wanna walk around?" He wasn't sure he wanted the day to end yet. They were still close, almost like they'd been last night. This morning. But better. Happier. He held her, and she let him. She hugged him in the ocean. He'd started to ask why, but she shook her head tightly, and he refrained. Things were changing between them. They were changing. He vowed to just let it happen. Go with it. Be the proverbial river.

They walked, barefoot, carrying their shoes.

"How many nieces and nephews do you have?" She'd vowed to ask him more questions. Learn about him.

"Nine." He chuckled.

"Nine?"

"We're a prolific bunch." He smiled.

"Three brothers?" She clarified.

"Yup. All older." He paused, and rattled off their names. "Ben, Anthony, and Colin. Oldest to youngest."

"Then you."

"Yeah." He smiled at her. "Ben is married to Jill. They have two kids. Becca and Ben, Jr. Anthony is married to Lynn, and they have four kids. Joe, Travis, Chris, and Mae. Colin, married to Christine. Three kids. His, hers, and theirs. Jack, Beth, and Jonathon. In that order."

"That's a lot of kids." She observed.

"Do they live in Texas?"

"Colin and Christine do." He nodded. "Ben and Jill are in Huntsville, and Anthony and Lynn live in Kansas City."

"What do they do?" Mary felt a little outclassed.

"Ben's a cop. Houston PD. Anthony's a chemist. He works at a plant doing quality control or something. Colin is a vet. He and his wife, are. Large animal."

Mary nodded as she memorized facts, and then asked more questions. "Are you and your brothers close?"

"Not really." He admitted. They're all older. And different. We don't really have much in common."

"No?"

"You know me, Mare." He grinned. "They were all athletes, and I was on the chess team."

"You ran cross-country." She looked up, puzzled.

"And track, but that's different."

"They picked on you." She observed. "Because you were smarter."

"No, they're all bright." He assured her. "They were just…more like our father. He wanted me to be tougher. Harder. More like him. I never was."

"I'm glad." Mary admitted quietly. "I like you better."

He knew she meant that she liked him better than she liked his father, and his heart warmed. She didn't usually make admissions of affection out loud like that.

"What about…Ben? The cop? You two aren't close?" She figured they'd have the most in common.

"No. I'm closer to Colin than the others."

"The vet?" Mary tried.

"Yeah. He's closest to my age. We used to go riding together all the time. Do science experiments in the basement."

"Yeah?" Mary raised one eyebrow at him.

"We might have almost blown up the basement a time or two." He admitted with a hearty chuckle.

"So I'm not the only one with "pyro" tendencies." Mary referred to the incident setting the lawn on fire and nudged him with her hip, and he sidestepped into the water.

"Not by a long shot." Marshall bumped her shoulder with his. "We used to shoot targets in the back, too."

"Back?"

"Of the property." He corrected. "We had twenty or so acres then."

"Your grandma's farm?"

"No. Ours." He shook his head. "Not really a farm. Just land. My mom had a vegetable garden, and we stabled some horses, pasture. A few goats. A dog. Barn cats. That's all."

"That's all?" It sounded like something out of a fairy tale to Mary. One of those silly stories she stopped believing in long ago.

"You had a horse?"

"Got my first pony when I was four." He remembered. "Named her Butterscotch."

"You had a pony?"

"Yeah." He admitted, the awe in her voice not lost on him. This was why he'd never told her. He hated to bring up the disparities between their childhoods. He'd had a pony to play with, and she'd had a baby and a drunk to care for.

"I'd pay money to see pictures of you on that pony." Her words surprised him. He hadn't expected mirth.

"Wait till you see the ones of me in the bathtub." He joked, and loved the way her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped.

"Naked baby pictures?" She finally managed. "This I have to see."

"I never said they were baby pictures." The shocked look was back, and Marshall congratulated himself mentally for rendering her speechless twice in as many minutes.

* * *

_Author's Note: That's all for now. Now I study. And fill out forms. Lots and lots of forms. I hate paperwork. I need someone I can shame into doing it for me. _


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Here it is! Chapter 15! I apologize for the delay. School caught up with me, and I got buried in work. Fourteen hour days are LONG! Thanks for staying with me, if you're still reading I'm touched and honored! Enjoy, and have fabulous weekends!

* * *

Mary was having trouble thinking on the way back to the dorms. Her day playing hooky with Marshall had been fun on the surface, and she was left wondering just exactly what lay beneath. She wasn't dense, and she certainly wasn't stupid. She knew her partner had feelings for her…probably those of the "forever and ever" variety, because he was just the kind of sap that believed in that kind of crap. She'd enjoyed his company. Hell, she always enjoyed his company, but today especially it had been welcome. He'd surprised her at the beach when he'd held her, and she'd continued the trend by surprising herself when she realized that she liked it when he held her. She felt safe. Whole. Content. Things she hadn't felt in far too long. They'd played in the water after her cathartic writing in the sand session, and she knew he'd been watching her all afternoon to see if she ever glanced back at the manuscript she'd carefully inscribed in the wet surf. She had, and she knew he'd seen it. Felt his eyes following her every move. And she'd felt the squeeze he'd given her when she turned her attention back, forehead wrinkled as she attempted to label the emotion currently coursing through her abdomen. He'd dropped a kiss to her wet hair with that half-hug, and she mirrored the facial expression now as she pondered her own reaction to his affections. No elbow to the ribs. No muttered name-calling. No threats to end his life prematurely. Instead she'd leaned into him. Accepted his comfort and compassion. Let his fingers trace water droplets down her arm then curl around her waist to hold her there against him. His cheek replaced his lips against the top of her head, and they'd stayed that way only a moment before the current knocked her off balance and Marshall had reached for her with both arms to anchor them in the sand. She'd ended up pressed against his chest facing him, feet dangling in the water as the undertow tried to drag her toward the shore. He did that for her often, though usually it was more of a metaphorical anchor than a physical one, but the significance wasn't lost.

He'd sensed her growing discomfort at the position and had dunked her quickly to add levity to the situation. She'd come up sputtering and coughing and flinging obscenities with the drops of water she sent his way as she skimmed her open hand across the surface. Still, she'd been grateful for his intuition, and her eyes held no malice as she gasped for air. He'd taken more liberties with her person that afternoon, hands bravely clasped around her bare waist, her rib cage. Grabbed her knees to tackle her or toss her over his shoulder into oncoming waves. He'd hoped he wasn't putting his life and more manly parts in jeopardy by doing this, and the gamble had paid off. She'd gone along with it gamely; had wrapped her own arms, slick from water, around his midsection a time or two, even wrapped herself around his legs beneath the water in attempts to trip him. They'd been gaining speed for a while now, and it warmed him to think about the recent increase in that velocity. She'd slept in his arms for the past two nights, and he had a plan for this one. She confided in him. Sat so close she was almost on top of him sometimes at her house or his. He'd even caught her dozing against him a time or two, her head resting on his shoulder, a sign of her complete trust in him. He wasn't certain if the new-found intimacy could be attributed to him entirely and the history of trust and friendship he had diligently cultivated over the past seven years or if he should be sending Katie a subscription to the wine of the month club as a token of his undying appreciation for her subtle urging.

She was watching him again. He could feel it as he steered the rental car onto a surface street. She'd been boring a hole in the side of his skull for the better part of the last hour. He knew better than to engage her until she was ready. She wasn't ready now. She was fidgety. Shifting in her seat. One hand on the door handle curling and uncurling her fingers. She was wrestling with something, but he wondered how deep it went. He needed her on solid ground before they dove into the conversation he yearned to have. He needed her steady. Grounded. Not teetering on the edge of a self-imposed precipice, denying herself the one thing that she needed. The one thing that kept her going some days was his friendship, and he knew this. He was her constant. Her confidant. She'd alluded to as much one more than one occasion, and he was loathe to rip that rug from under her and send her floundering. At least not until he knew exactly whom she would reach for when he did it. He needed to ensure that she reached only for him. Only for him.

Still, he was hungry. They'd walked a few miles on the beach, and that combined with the unusual amount of sunshine they'd both been exposed to effectively zapped him of his energy and left him feeling famished. He was sure she was equally ravenous, or would be if she ceased attempting telepathy on him and thought about her own physical state. They were both a mess. Hair asunder, tangled and matted. Sunburned. Dressed in an odd assortment of clothing and beach attire. And she'd never looked more beautiful to him.

He spotted a small restaurant sign in a strip mall and changed lanes quickly. "How's Indian?" He tried, knowing what her reaction would be, but asking just to get a rise out of her.

"Sure." She surprised him with a shrug. "Why not? You like it, right?"

"I love it." Now he was stuck. There was no Indian restaurant. Instead he'd found a small southern diner that promised to have excellent regional fare.

"Okay." She sounded resigned, and he wondered again what trail she'd been strolling down before his interruption.

"Marshall?" She blinked and looked from the diner to her partner's face.

"Yes, Mary?" He waited patiently.

"This doesn't look like Indian." She surmised.

"It isn't."

"You said…"

"I lied." He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes. "How do you feel about okra and catfish?"

"Okra and what?" She gasped.

"Or something else. Barbeque. Fried chicken. Shrimp. Crab. Whatever."

"You're serious?" Her mouth was agape, but her stomach rumbled at the idea of good crab. It was so hard to get in land-locked New Mexico. The seafood that she usually ate was more of the breaded and frozen variety. Just seemed safer in the middle of the freaking desert.

"I am." He assured her as he climbed out of the car and turned to give her a look that clearly said _"hurry up, I'm hungry!"_

Mary was distracted over dinner, and Marshall didn't push her. He refrained from engaging her with his brief history of okra. Bit his tongue to keep the origins of barbeque inside. Gnawed on the inside of his cheek until it bled to keep from regaling her with the details of the ecology and habitat of the blue crab, which would have been followed by the plight of sea turtles with the growing light pollution and how temperature affects gender selection in reptiles. She had, in fact, remained so silent for so long that he was actually starting to worry about her. Again.

"You okay, Mare?" He asked around a bite of bread pudding.

"I'm fine." She shot him a tight smile, and he noticed that her eyes looked sad. Tired. Distant.

"You can talk to me." He offered softly, praying she'd agree.

"Really, Marshall. I'm fine."

"Is that why you haven't touched the pudding?" He'd ordered it à la mode because he knew she loved the juxtaposition of cold vanilla and hot pudding. Personally, he preferred to have his ice cream on the side of this particular dessert.

"Just thinking." She shrugged a shoulder and reached out with her spoon to snag a mouthful of goodness.

"You need to bounce anything off someone?" He offered. "I'm told that I'm practically covered in rubber."

Mary snickered at his unintentional double entendre, and Marshall smiled when he caught up.

"I just have a lot on my mind." She deferred again, and took another bite. "I'm really fine." She trailed off, then surprised him after a moment of silence. "Thanks, though. For asking."

He met her eyes, and saw something in them. Darker green inside the poorly lit diner, but full of something other than the usual emerald and fire. A spark of something else, perhaps? Hope may spring eternal, but at this point in their relationship, Marshall merely filed away the look and catalogued it under "Mary's pensive face." He'd gotten his hopes up before, only to have them smashed against boulders into progressively smaller pieces.

"If you change your mind…" He didn't finish because she knew the rest. It was a standing offer. He was always there if she needed something.

She nodded, and then dropped her eyes to her plate. Fiddled with her spoon. Licked the last traces of ice cream off of it unconsciously. Marshall had to avert his gaze. She could drive him wild. And worry him into knots. He was used to spitfire Mary. Ball buster Mary. Kick ass and take names later Mary. Sad, quiet, contemplative Mary always was a cause for concern. It wasn't generally a good thing when Mary retreated into her own head. He knew she tended towards loathing and self-reproach. That she knew she was competent, but doubted her own self-worth. Much as he tried, he worried that his gentle affirmations fell on deaf ears. Ears too well honed to the negative to even allow the positive to penetrate.

"Do you want to head straight back?" Marshall pushed his chair away a few inches and leaned back, stretching in satisfaction.

"Is there anywhere else to go?" She quirked one eyebrow at him, and he warmed a little. Relaxed.

"We're not far from the capital. We take the monuments by moonlight tour." He shrugged. It starts at seven thirty. We have time to make it." His offer was multilayered. He'd always wanted to take that particular tour. Stroll by the Vietnam Memorial and the Washington Monument in the moonlight. Arm in arm with a beautiful woman. So that was pretty much it. He wanted to take a romantic walk with Mary, and she seemed just open enough to let him do it today. Why give up a perfectly good opportunity?

"How much is it?" She queried, concerned that tour prices in the nation's capital would be exorbitant.

"Thirty bucks or so." He had looked at the ticket prices, but he'd honestly forgotten the exact number. "We could just do the walk ourselves. No tickets. I know my way around anyway."

"Yeah?" Sometimes his knowledge of random cities impressed her. Other times she just wondered if he had nothing better to do with his time than sit around staring at maps. This was one of those impressed times.

"Do you want to?"

"Sure. Why not?" It wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but he'd take it. "I'm a mess." She glanced at her attire, her hair curling in its rubber band.

"Slip your jeans back on in the restroom." He knew she'd brought them. She never went anywhere without jeans. "I'll wait."

"My hair is a disaster."

"Put your ball cap back on." He countered.

"You have an answer to everything, don't you?" She chuckled.

"Maybe not everything…" He had to move his feet to avoid her kick.

"We're going to be here day after tomorrow, aren't we?" She questioned as she rose to retrieve her jeans from the car.

"Yup." He nodded affirmatively. "During the day."

"We could stay until dark." She shook her head at him. She was on to his plan.

"We have an early flight Sunday morning. We should get some sleep."

"The flight's not that early." She countered. "And the airport isn't that far away."

"But we have to arrive early, return the rental car, yada yada yada."

"Fine. I'll be back." She held out her hand for the keys and handed him her credit card. "Don't go crazy with the tip!" She hissed as she walked out the door. He just smiled after her as he watched her leave. Like he was going to use her credit card.

Mary changed quickly and promptly returned to find Marshall sipping his refill of sweet tea with a suspicious look on his face.

"What did you do?" She queried.

"Do?"

"Marshall!" She warned.

"Nothing. I paid for dinner. Got a refill. Waited for you." He held up his hands and gave her a goofy look that told her she wouldn't get anything more out of him. He failed to add how he'd used his own money to pay for dinner, but she didn't ask, so he felt no need to inform her of the impromptu change of plans.

"Fine." She put her credit card back in her wallet and closed her purse. "Ready?"

"Sure thing." He lumbered to his feet and followed his partner out to the car, appreciating the view the whole way. There were perks to walking one step behind his partner, and this was one of them.

He drove them to the city, found a place to park, and paused to gaze up at the sky before offering Mary his arm. The gesture was old-fashioned, sure, but his mamma and his grandma brought him up right. He wasn't sure how Mary would react, and his stomach dropped for a second when she hesitated before smiling up at him with a questioning look on her face and accepting his arm. He gripped her tightly to his side like he was afraid she'd disappear, but she didn't say anything. She was used to Marshall being a gentleman around her. Truthfully, he was the only gentleman she could remember meeting. He held doors open for her, opened the twisty beer bottles for her so the sharp metal didn't tear up her hands. When they hiked he climbed up or down anything particularly high or steep first, then turned to help her should she need it. She rarely accepted, but she liked that he did it anyway. Once, a few years ago. When they'd actually been held up at gun point, Marshall had grabbed her arm and moved her behind him before she could react, the act possessive and protective. She'd been irritated, and gave him hell for it; berating him for being chauvinistic and hopped up on testosterone. She'd ranted about how she was competent and could take care of herself, but later that night she'd changed her tone. Alone, in her room in the dark she finally had time to process the situation. Her service weapon hadn't even been drawn yet. They weren't anticipating danger. Marshall was quick, drew first, and shoved her behind him. Took care of her. Would have taken a bullet for her if his ability to read people and talk them down had failed him. She'd quietly dialed 911 from behind the safety of her partner's back, fingertips pressing the keys by memory as she peered around him. He was honorable, this partner of hers. Trustworthy. A true friend.

A long time ago she might have called likened him to Prince Charming, but she didn't believe in fairy tales any more. She raged against the injustice that little girls were promised handsome princes, up on white horses that came riding in to save the day. Rescue them. Mary had long ago quit waiting for anyone to rescue her. She'd done it herself. Saved her baby sister, too, although she wasn't sure she'd done such a good job on that front. She'd done her best, or at least the best a child could do under such circumstances. Katie had turned out better, but then again, Katie had never truly been her responsibility. And she was different than Brandi. Self-reliant. Resilient. Saavy and smart. Perhaps that's the way it goes. You do a better job on things you aren't required to be doing in the first place. Or maybe Katie would have turned out well regardless. Who knows. There were too many variables in Mary's life. Too many what-ifs. Too many if-onlys.

Marshall was talking to her, and as his voice penetrated her thoughts she worried that she'd missed something important. She was trying to pay better attention to him. Really listen when he talked. Be a better friend. She was doing it wrong. Shaking her head, she used her other hand on his chest to urge him to a stop.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, and Marshall stared at her in surprise. "I missed that. Could you say it again?"

He was quiet, but didn't look angry. He just searched her face, looked deep in her eyes, then wrinkled his own forehead. "Mary?" His voice was worried. "Is everything okay?" Not only had she apologized of her own free will, but she admitted that she hadn't been paying attention, then voluntarily submitted – requested even – he repeat himself. And he'd just been talking because he knew she liked it. He had known she wasn't with him. He always knew.

"I'm fine, Marshall." Her practice reply fell off her tongue without even thinking about it, and she remembered Marshall telling her something long ago about muscle memory.

"Sure you are." His voice was soft, and he prayed she wouldn't misinterpret his intention for asking. "You're totally fine. And that's why you haven't heard anything I've said in the last ten minutes. That's why you barely touched your dinner, and why I ate at least three quarters of dessert. You're far from fine, Mary. I know it. You know it. I'm just worried about you."

"Marshall…" She started, but had no reply past his name. A question? A request? She wasn't even sure how to punctuate it.

"Tell me what you need, Mary." His hand encircled her wrist, and he squeezed lightly. Just enough to be reassuring, and nowhere near hard enough to startle her. He knew she hated being bound. Had since the "basement." She only ever called it that, and even then only after a few drinks. He'd pieced the story together, thanks in great part to him always drinking less than her when she was in a mood like this. Staying more sober so he'd remember anything she told him. He hold her secrets close to his heart, but he'd rather hold her.

"I need…" She was at a loss. What did she need? A drink? A man? A good lay, perhaps? All three? "I don't know." She did know. That was a lie. She needed a hug. She needed to feel warm and safe. Loved. Cherished. She also knew she'd never have those things. People like her don't get fairy tale endings, and there was no point in dragging Marshall into her own personal drama.

"Come here." He coaxed her closer to him, instinctively knowing what she needed, tugging on her forearms close to her elbows.

"I…" Her protests died as he wrapped his arms around her. It felt nice; being here like that with him.

The fading heat of the summer day whipped around them gently in the breeze, and Marshall watched as a cloud blew across the moon. She was tense in his arms at first. Ramrod stiff and nervous. His hands were soothing her back, though. Rubbing gently up and down. She relaxed finally. Little by little. Let her head fall against his chest. Let him lay his cheek on it. Let him draw her body against his, and drew relaxing heat from him. Slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, then moved them a little higher. Right beneath his ribs, hands spanning a few levels. Why not, she reasoned. It was Marshall. She was fine. It's just Marshall.

Except it wasn't _"just Marshall."_ It was her partner. Her friend. The only man she trusted implicitly. It was nice in his arms. She liked being here. She couldn't like being here. Could she? She didn't pull away, though. Didn't push at him or chastise him for invading her personal space. Nor did she attempt to convince him that she was perfectly okay. Fine. Fabulous. She wasn't any of those things, and even she knew better than to try to convince him that she was.

"Talk to me, Mare." He pleaded with her, voice muffled a little as he buried his face in her hair. "Tell me about it. What are you thinking?"

"I don't know." She confessed uncharacteristically. She didn't know. But it was unlike her to be so honest about it.

He remained silent, but stroked her hair. Smoothed the curling tendrils from her face. Combed through her tangled pony tail with his fingers gently. It worked the other night; maybe it could now as well.

He felt her take a deep breath, but rather than talk she shoved away from him. Stood a foot or so away and stared first at her feet, then his chest, and then met his gaze uncertainly.

"I missed what you were saying." Diversionary tactics, and he'd know it, but she wasn't ready to broach the subject with him yet. Maybe never. Perhaps she'd just stay where she was; keep him at a distance. It was probably better for both of them that way. There was no reason for Marshall to get dragged into her world any more than he already was. She'd try to make him understand that later.

His heart dropped at her words, and he recognized them for what they were. A change of subject. An awkward, ungraceful segue into territory more familiar to her. A refusal to delve deeper into her own emotions. He was used to her defense mechanisms. Could rattle them off in lists and spot them from forty paces. Tamping down the growing irritation, he softened and gestured at a building she hadn't even noticed until then.

"This is the Jefferson Memorial. It was built in the style of Pantheon in Rome. There are twenty six Corinthian columns. The Pantheon has three rows of eight columns, and was originally dedicated to the twelve Olympian gods for heaven."

She stood and gazed upon the Memorial. Let the history absorb her as she was carried away by her partner's voice. Marshall wondered if she realized she was leaning against him. Resting her head against his shoulder. He continued, though, searching his memory banks for something…anything to talk about. He followed up his history of the architecture of the memorial with the history of the Pantheon. Followed that up with a brief overview of Roman mythology, which segued nicely into a history of the founding of Rome itself. She asked questions, which she didn't always do, and he answered them. Even chanced wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her to him. She did not resist, and he made no effort to move them from that place. Enveloped in darkness and history, he had her relaxed once more. Unaware of her surroundings and unguarded. Interested.

"Can we go closer?" She asked him quietly.

"Of course." He loosened his hold, but did not release her entirely as they made their way up to the steps. The lights of the monument gave it an ethereal glow in the night Marshall made a wish without a star as Mary made no move to push him away as she so often did.

"I like this." She reached out and touched one of the columns. "It stands for something. It's solid."

He contracted internally at her words, but only responded with facts. She could deal with facts right now, but he doubted her ability to wrestle with much else. "The marble of the floor is from a quarry in Tennessee, and the columns are marble from Vermont. The foundation is granite from Georgia."

"There's marble here?" She questioned, surprised. "In the US?"

"There's stone from every state represented in a monument in DC." He nodded, reaching out to stroke the column as well. The stone felt cool under his finger tips, in sharp contrast to the heat under his right hand that came from Mary.

"What's from New Mexico?"

He surprised her with his answer. "I don't know." He paused and took in her shocked look. "But we should find out while we're here."

"Tonight?" She queried, a tad apprehensive.

"Later." He assured her. "Saturday."

"Okay." She relaxed against him again, and he closed his eyes to breathe her in. She was never this open with him. Never let him touch her this long. Hold her.

She pulled away from him and he watched as she wondered around the inside of the monument, bathed in the orange light of the newly installed LEDs. She was a graceful creature by nature, and he liked to watch her move. She glided across the marble floor, not quite as polished as he was certain it had been, shine worn off by millions of feet parading over it in time.

"What else?" She called from across the portico.

"Huh?"

"What else is there? What can we see? I like it here at night. It's…" She trailed off, half ashamed of where she'd planned on the sentence going.

"Almost magical." He agreed, finishing for her on instinct. He understood what she couldn't say.

"Yeah." They strolled the sidewalks. Walked the National Mall, awed by the Washington Monument. Fingered the stones of the Lincoln Memorial, and Marshall quietly quoted the Gettysburg Address, a little surprised, but pleasantly, when Mary chimed in as well.

"There's so much history here." Mary whispered quietly in the night.

"There is, but there's more in New Mexico." He was, of course, referring to the ruins. The petroglyphs and other evidence of cultures ages older than their own.

"I should travel more." Mary stated. "Read more."

"You travel plenty." They both did, just not for pleasure. "And you don't have to read. You have me." He did tend toward the verbose, regaled her with history lessons and random bits of trivia that thrilled him, but she merely tolerated. Or so he thought.

"But you know all this stuff." She frowned a little, and it bewildered him.

"But I tell it to you, and then you know it, too."

She offered a small smile. An acquiescence of sorts that told him he was right. She did learn from his lectures when she listened. She vowed to listen more to this man. This fount of knowledge and the eclectic. He had a thirst for information on any and everything that caught his interest. Dove fully into each subject. Absorbed history and art and random, then recited it to her at intervals she never fully comprehended. She listened sometimes, then thought about it later. Searched for deeper meaning. Sometimes his lectures were parables. Parallels to her own life. Their combined lives. Jobs. Trials and troubles that befell them both by default of their shared realities. Other times it was merely filler. Knowledge he imparted just because she needed something to fill the gaps of silence on long drives or distract her from what was eating her.

"Marshall?" She questioned in a small voice.

"Yeah, Mare?"

She hesitated. Looked around her anxiously, and he knew that whatever came out of her mouth next was by no means what she meant to say. She'd scramble to come up with something else. A cover. Another diversion.

"Do you ever wonder if we're stuck?"

Was he wrong? Could he have underestimated her by that much?

"Stuck how?"

"Do you think…can we ever…can people, anyone…ever…" This was hard. She wished she'd never opened her mouth in the first place. "Never mind."

"Mary, what?" He stepped closer. Not quite in her personal space, but just on the periphery. "Can we what?" He waited, but she just shook her head.

"Mary, what?" He repeated; the look on her face was distressing him. "You can tell me."

She gazed into the distance, eyes sweeping and taking in the view before her before meeting his own eyes briefly, then looking away again. Embarrassed.

"Do you think anyone can ever change their own reality? Be more than their past? Or are we all just products of our upbringings?"

His heart broke for her. She sounded so lost. Broken.

"Mary?" He tried for her attention gently. "Mare?" Screw personal space, he moved to stand in front of her, close enough to feel her breath on his chest. "Mary, you know you already did that, right?"

She didn't respond for a moment, but raised her head to meet his gaze questioningly. "Did what?"

"Mary, look at yourself for a moment through my eyes." If he was going to convince her of anything, he'd have to do it this way. "You raised yourself. You raised your sister. Took care of your alcoholic mother. Graduated high school. Went to college. Finished college. You're employed. You're in law enforcement, hell! You own your own home." He could have continued, but she interrupted him.

"The bank owns my home." She corrected.

"It's in your name, isn't it? You pay your mortgage every month."

He was right. She'd never been late on a payment. Marshall often encouraged her in ways to improve her credit score. She nodded.

"You already changed your reality, Mary."

She made no sound, but moved one corner of her mouth to let him know she was considering his words, then shrugged one shoulder. "I guess."

"I know." He stated it definitely and fought to meet her gaze once more, and failing. He finally reached one hand out to tip her chin up and force her hand. She obliged, but only because it was Marshall. "I know." He repeated firmly, and she almost believed him.

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A/N: That's all for now. Possibly for a few more weeks. This rotation is going to kill me, and I'm trying to stay positive. Review at will. :-)


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: Basic legal crap. I'm poor. I don't even own my own TV. Don't bother suing me. It's all for funsies. Sorry for any typos. I'm tired, and out of practice.  
**

**Other stuff: writer's block is over! Rotations from hell are over (for a month). I'm on a nice, easy, elective rotation now. Yay! Time to write! And ACTUALLY study! (gasp) I hope everyone had a fabulous Thanksgiving. Here is the next chapter. Sorry it's shorter than most. I have a headache, and this seemed like a good stopping place. **

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Marshall shifted and sighed. He couldn't sleep. His brain kept replaying the conversation in the car with Mary on the ride back to the dorms. He physically hurt for her sometimes; her fatalistic view of the world. Her stubborn refusal to stray from her hard-earned outlook drew both admiration and frustration from her partner.

Mary's comment about people's ability to change their own destiny was batting about in Marshall's head as he drove. He'd quit pondering why she was letting him do all the driving already, and had moved on to why she'd asked him such an uncharacteristic question. It wasn't that he thought her incapable of introspection; just questioned why she'd chosen to share such deep insights with him. These were generally the thoughts that she chose to keep to herself. Can people ever change? Are they doomed by the acts of their parents? Can they ever decide their own fate, and then actively change it? Did she worry that she was somehow destined to a life of unhappiness because of her family? Her childhood? How deep, exactly, did her self-doubt go?

Marshall tried to move his arm, but Mary was currently using it as an adjunct to her pillow. He was going to lose feeling in his fingers in a minute; pins and needles were already setting in. He considered her sleeping form for a moment before deciding what to do. She was on her back, but her head was turned to face him, and her hand was resting on the arm he had draped around her waist. Mary was a puzzle to him lately. He thought he'd had her figured out. He knew her moods, and how to deal with them. He knew her likes and dislikes. He'd made headway in resigning himself to the fact that she did not have any sort of romantic feelings for him…and most likely never would. Then her cousin arrived and Mary opened up to him in ways she'd never truly done before. He moved his arm from under her hand and brushed phantom wisps of hair from her face and pondered their relationship. If he kept this up, he'd be dropping from exhaustion before he ever got back to New Mexico.

Closing his eyes and trying to sleep, Mary's echoed in his head.

"Just let it go, Marshall." Her voice was almost pleading, and lacked any of the familiar rancor. "Forget I said anything."

"I can't, Mare." His voice was soft, and he prayed she'd understand his meaning.

"Marshall…" She started, but he cut her off.

"No, Mare. Listen to me." He paused to gather his thoughts before continuing. If he wasn't careful he'd just upset her. Alienation was the opposite of his goal. It was always the opposite of his goal.

"Mary, correct me any time if I get this wrong." That should help. She liked having control of things. He'd taken enough psychology in college to understand that this particular trait of hers no doubt stemmed from her childhood, and her inability to control any aspect of her life growing up.

She didn't respond verbally, but she did nod once.

"Mare, I worry sometimes that you think you can't be happy. That you're willing to settle for less in your personal life. I'm concerned that you think you don't deserve more than what you seem to have resigned yourself to accepting." He paused and took a deep breath. She probably wouldn't shoot him while he was driving. Her self-preservational instincts were better than that.

"I see you, Mary." He kept going, praying he wasn't pissing her off. "I see you working. I see you changing and growing. I see the differences in you since we started working together. I know…no…I think you doubt your ability to be happy. I worry that you're used to less; used to people ignoring you and your needs. I'm worried that you think you can't be happy. Truly happy."

He took another breath and glanced at her. She was staring out the passenger side window.

"Mary?" He asked hesitantly. "Are you happy?"

There was a pregnant pause punctuated only by the sounds of the road and their own breathing.

"I don't think happy's on the table, Marshall." Her quiet words stabbed him in the heart.

He remained quiet for a few minutes while he considered her words. The source of them. The pain in them. Happy isn't on the table. The mantra of a woman who's given up. Given up on life and happiness. And love.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Believe what?" She could feign ignorance when she had to.

"That you can't…won't ever be happy?"

She blew out a deep breath and turned tired eyes to meet his. "I have a job I love, I house I love. I have a few friends. I'm fine."

"A few friends?" He repeated skeptically. "You have me. And Katie."

"Fine." She smirked at him, but it wasn't her usual smirk. "I have a couple of friends. Better?"

"I'm not arguing your semantics, Mary, I'm questioning your logic."

"My logic is fine, Socrates. Thank you very much."

"You know Socrates once said that the unexamined life is not worth living." He looked her in the face for effect. "I think if you examine your life more closely you'll discover that you've given up on things you deserve."

"My god you sound like a freaking Lifetime movie." Mary muttered as she reclined the seat.

"My point is that you…"

"Can it, Oprah." Her words were biting, but her tone was not, and he suspected that she was going to think about what he said later. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

Mary showered and changed as soon as she got to the room, and had crawled into the bed before Marshall emerged from his shower. He contemplated his options while he fished around in his bag for a tee shirt, and then slid in beside her. He arranged the blankets carefully in case she was already asleep, but the way she shifted away from him let him know she wasn't.

Her silence was a sign, though. She was uninterested in talking to him, and he knew better than to engage her when she was so deeply in thought. Her breathing stilled a few minutes later, and Marshall regretted broaching the subject again when he had the chance. He would, no doubt, be up most of the night again. This trip was wreaking havoc on his circadian rhythm. He was up all day, and most of the past two nights. Surely tonight would be no exception. He tried to sleep. Closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Concentrated on nothing. Counted proverbial sheep. But his mind inevitably drifted to the warm, freshly scented, sleeping figure beside him. He'd slept near her on occasion. Single motel rooms with two beds. Long stake-outs where they took turns snoozing. Passed out on his couch or hers, either from exhaustion or alcohol. He had, though, spent too many nights alone in his home, sprawled out on his too-empty bed thinking about her. Allowing his mind to drift into that most forbidden of territory. Mary.

He cocked an eye open and watched her slumber. Peaceful. Relaxed. A sight he was rarely granted. She worried him on a daily basis. Had worried him since they were first partnered. Sooner, actually, if he was honest with himself. She'd taken an instant dislike to him when they'd met. Mocked his dual name/profession moniker. Passed judgment and made scathing fun of his family life, childhood. He'd quickly learned that her biting rebuke was mostly borne of jealously and awe. For a child who had never had those simple luxuries, his was a life that must have seemed like a fairy tale. He'd allowed her to believe it for years, too, far too worried about appearing to be complaining about what truly was idyllic than actually correcting her. She'd learned the truth when she met his father. That big, gruff, legend of a man whom Marshall had long since given up trying to impress. Mary impressed him without even trying, but it hadn't been her expertise with a shotgun or her wit and charm. Seth Mann told his son later, privately, that his fair partner went to bat for him in his absence. Defended him most vehemently, while still maintaining that air or professionalism and respect that only she could muster around a man like Marshal Seth Mann.

Both eyes open now, he turned his head to look at her. On her side now, facing him, her face scrunched a bit. Eyebrows knitting together and a deep, shaking breath. His hand reached out to caress her face before he could stop it. Knuckles stroking that soft skin in the hollow of her cheek. The reach was awkward, and so he stopped as soon as she stilled and her countenance relaxed. What had she dreamt of, he wondered. Mary had enough demons in her past to keep a grown man up with nightmares. She was moving now, shifting and breathing changed. He closed his eyes and stilled. No sense embarrassing her. He felt her sit up, the blankets gapping and letting cool air around his bare arm. She took a few measured breaths, and then gingerly crawled over him to get out of the tiny bed. He half hoped she'd slip, and then chastised himself for thinking it.

The bathroom door shut quietly, and light from under the door illuminated the dark room. He stared at the closed door and wondered if his partner – his friend was okay. Straining to hear, he closed his eyes and listened for sounds. Breaths hitching. Sobs wrenching. Fists connecting with walls. Nothing. The toilet flushed, water ran for a while. Teeth being brushed again. Then silence. Several minutes of silence passed, and just before he was going to rise and check on her, the light switched off and the door opened quietly. Mary padded carefully across the tile floor and stood beside the bed. He couldn't tell if she was watching him or merely trying to figure the best way back into the bed. He'd give her a few minutes before letting her know he was awake. Concentrating on keeping his breathing even, he waited.

Mary stood stock-still with indecision. She could climb back in bed. Climb over her partner and snuggle against him once more and sleep. Really sleep. It irked her that she'd slept better the past few days than she had in months. Maybe ever. His presence calmed her. She didn't feel the need to keep one eye open. Didn't have to be on alert, although since Horst she'd been more vigilant about his person when they were out in the field. God help her, she'd actually let this geek of man worm his way into her life, and she was hard-pressed to pinpoint when it had happened. When had she become dependent on anyone, much less a man?

"_Tell me what you need."_ Lord, how many times had he said that to her? A simple phrase that she'd never given a second's thought since the first time he'd said it. She'd been in a mood, and she'd flown about the office picking things up and slamming them back down all while raving about the injustices in the legal system. Angry about a good witness being kicked out of the program because her husband breeched security and compromised them both one too many times. Furious that this man had essentially sentenced his wife to death. As she was about to slam down a clay planter of fake geraniums, she'd felt gentle hands on her arms. Focusing with effort, she looked up, surprised to see her partner there. Calm and gentle. He took the planter with one hand, and carefully sat it on the shelf in the break area, and rubbed her shoulders. "Tell me what you need." His earnest plea, repeated time and time again over the years. When had anyone ever asked her what she needed? Why did he care? She wondered today, much as she had back them_. _

"_Because I don't know what you need. I don't know how to make this better or easier for you. Sometimes the job sucks, and we can't change it. But I can help you, if you tell me how."_

"_But…"_ She had no words to follow. It was a question she'd never been asked.

Her face had said it all. Utter confusion. Astonishment. A touch of fear. It was the fear that got him. Afraid of him. Afraid of his motives. She didn't trust him yet. Didn't realize that he truly did want to help her. Be there for her. Later that evening, he'd realized from where that fear stemmed. She didn't know how to react to that level of kindness. That degree of caring. Sympathy for her plight. She hadn't experienced it frequently enough to be comfortable with openness. Friendship. Bless her heart, he vowed he'd find a way.

Mary didn't know it, but he thought about that day often. He'd taken her to a park that particular evening. They ate Mexican food from the foil wrappers and drank watered down sodas from paper cups. He hadn't said much, save to point out an interesting plant or identify local wildlife. It was exactly what she needed.

And now, all these years later, he still inquired the same treatise. _"Tell me what you need." _And she did. He let her be herself. Let her carry on and yell. Get all the inky darkness out of her soul, then he'd check, just to be sure if she was okay. Or he'd bring her pie or take her to dinner. They visited the park a few times a year, always ate food from the same crappy Mexican restaurant, and walked the same trail. It was a ritual of sorts, whenever one of them had a particularly trying day, and each found a measure of comfort in the custom.

The beach today. It was so like him, she realized with a start. He took her because she'd said she wanted to go. It was for her. Words played in her head like a record.

"_You can be happy." _

"M_eet someone halfway."_

"_You can't even see what's right in front of you." _

"Damn." Mary whispered in the darkness at it hit her. "She was talking about you."

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_A/N: That's all for now. What does Mary do? Run? Accept it? Make sweet, sweet love to her partner? Hmmm. Possibilities._


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's Note: I apologize again for the delay in this chapter. I have been sick for six weeks straight, and I'm exhausted. Lost my voice for an entire week – which make seeing patients interesting since the youngest are 70 years old. I think I'm finally getting better. My doc gave me a half day off this week, and I've done nothing but sleep on my time off for weeks. Here's hoping I am actually getting well!**_

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The revelation nearly knocked Mary on her ass. She held her breath as she contemplated the implications of her new knowledge. He had tried to tell her. Many times. He'd offered himself to her more times than she could count, and she had turned him down, cut him off, and mocked him for his tendency towards the sappy. Messy. He'd offered her messy, but that was something he could never be. Marshall wasn't messy. Nothing he did was messy. His house was perfectly in order at all times, just like the rest of his life. Her life was chaos. It had been for almost as long as she could remember, and still he wanted to be with her. It was chilling. Terrifying. And confusing as hell. She wasn't romantic, girlfriend material, and he knew that. What the hell was he thinking?

Mary found herself irritated with her partner. She couldn't be what he needed. What he wanted. She wasn't into the schmoopy, dopey, lovey-dovey, girly, romantic crap that most girls loved. That Marshall loved. She took one step back, and stopped, looking intently at her partner's face in the darkness of the chilly room. Clean lines. Strong jaw. A kind face. Kind blue eyes that never judged her. A sweet, caring smile when she needed it. Strong arms that held her when she needed a hug, even if she'd never admit it. Ears that listened to her rant about her inane family members, and never failed to try to make her feel better when she needed. And he always knew when she needed it. She reached an index finger out to trace along his jaw. The hollow under his cheek bones. Forehead. This man was too good for her.

He stirred when he felt her touch, already awake, but sensing some turmoil in his partner as she jerked her hand away.

"Mare?" He croaked, voice dry from exhaustion and thirst. His eyes focused on her face, and instantly recognized the terror he saw there. She was going to run. Again. He'd made a mistake by laying it all on the table a few months ago. He bared his heart in the office, and she'd run. Bolted to Mexico with another man. His ego was bruised, but he'd learned from that mistake. Misstep. He'd not dally there again.

Before she could react, Marshall had snaked an arm around her waist. "Come back to bed."

She never even saw it coming, but she found herself lifted off the ground and rolled over the top of her partner's long form. He was tucking the blankets in around her by the time the room stopped spinning.

"You'll catch a cold out there." His voice was low in her ear, and she wondered if it always sounded so sexy. Had she really never noticed?

"You don't actually catch a cold from being cold, Doofus." She parroted back a speech he'd given her years ago. "Prolonged cold temperatures may induce hypothermia or a state of decreased immune function, but it does not, in fact, make you sick. It just might make you more susceptible to getting sick."

"You listened!" He exclaimed, face lighting up with a wide smile. He remembered the conversation. It had been an unseasonably cold day in Albuquerque, and Mary had been new to the state. New to their partnership. She'd forgotten a coat, and was badgering Marshall to give her his, but her logic was flawed, and Marshall had informed her of such. She'd scowled and punched him in the arm, but she had dropped the topic. Twenty minutes later, her chattering teeth finally made Marshall feel sorry for her, and he wrapped his coat around her shoulders. Then he grabbed his spare jacket out of the trunk and put it on. She had thanked him with a glare, but her thanks were genuine four hours later when she handed him back the coat. It had smelled like her, and he hadn't washed it for a few more days until the scent wore off, even though she'd spilled coffee on the left sleeve.

"I didn't have a choice." She retorted dryly. "I was trapped in a freezing car with you for five hours."

"Yeah, but you remembered." He sounded elated at this revelation.

"Go to sleep, Gladys." She sounded annoyed, but truthfully, she was very, very comfortable. Tucked against her warm partner, two blankets wrapped around them both. He smelled clean and fresh from the shower, that manly scent that she had grown to associate with her partner.

"Is everything okay?" It was risky, but sometimes a little risk is worth it.

She hesitated, and he wondered if she would tell him what she meant when she uttered her whispered discovery a few minutes ago.

"Just had to pee, Marshall." She sounded different. Unsettled.

"If you…"

She cut him off before he could get any farther. She was used to this, and the realization floored her. "I'm fine. Go to sleep."

Sleep, though, would be elusive for both of them.

Marshall continued his mental cataloging of just exactly what it felt like to hold Mary in his arms all night. The way she smelled. The curve of her hip as it pressed against him. The softness of any skin in reach that he could stroke without putting his life in jeopardy. It was a ritual he'd repeated the night before, but felt the need to continue just in case. Just in case he was never granted this opportunity again. She was preoccupied with something, and Marshall was taking full advantage. Sort of. His mother brought him up right, so fingers never strayed to anywhere she might find personally offensive.

Mary barely even registered his gentle touch as her brain scrambled to make sense of this new information. She didn't notice the gentle fingers winding their way through her long hair. Feather light fingertips trace her jaw or down the side of her face. The soft skin of her arm was thoroughly explored before he moved to ribs. Still covered in soft tee shirt, he traced each delicate bone around until he felt it unsafe to do so any longer. Sharp jut of her hip bone. Marshall Mann was a man in heaven – or as close to it as he ever dreamed he'd come.

Brain working in overtime, Mary tried to remember when Marshall had become more than just her goofy partner. The guy who occupied the other office chair. Who fixed her computer and brought her coffee and ran interference when she was ballistic. Somehow, he'd become her friend, and she had accepted that. It was nice to have a friend. She'd let herself grow dependent upon him, and that, miraculously, had been okay, too. Only now she was more than dependent. She was attached. Mary Shannon didn't do attachments. Not emotional ones, anyway. She didn't trust anyone enough to waste the potential heartache. She still remembered the mental flagellations she'd engaged in when she thought he was leaving three years ago. Scolding herself for her lapse in self preservation. For thinking she needed him. For the pain she knew she'd feel when he finally did leave. But then he hadn't left. He'd stayed. For her. And she'd flung crap and insults just like before, but she watched him more closely now. That fear was still fresh, and coupled with the discovery from earlier, it was a heady thing to wrestle.

Katie said Marshall loved her, and she was generally right about these things. The girl had an insight into humanity that Mary alternately envied and mocked. The reason her shorter cousin had insisted on inviting him for dinner nearly every night was suddenly very obvious. Mary had been blind, so very, very blind. Katie wasn't interested in Marshall herself. She'd been telling the truth. She was subtly pushing Mary towards her partner. Gentle nudging with food and time alone after the cook and instigator of these "dates" retired to the bedroom on the pretense of needing to study. Marshall stayed because he enjoyed her company, and Mary found herself wondering if perhaps he was in on the plan as well. Had the two of them discussed this? Conspired to draw Mary's head out of her figurative ass and shove the two of them together. Towards what? Years of wedded bliss? Mary scoffed.

Marshall mistook the scoff for coughing or shivering, and his arms tightened.

"You okay?" His voice sounded too worried, Mary noticed. "Need some water? Are you cold?"

"I'm okay."

"Sure?" Those long fingers had resumed their stroking. Face. Hair. It was all fair game.

"I'm sure." She didn't chastise him, though. Or push his fingers away from her face. Actually, she moved a twinge closer; tilted her face into his exploration.

"Okay." His sounded uncertain.

"Sorry I woke you." She hadn't realized that he'd been wide awake.

"You didn't." Her mental preoccupations had prevented her from noticing the gentle ministrations.

"You're tense." Marshall observed.

"No I'm not." Her inclination towards obstinacy ran deep.

"You are." Marshall quietly protested. "Something's bothering you."

She couldn't decide if she hated him for know her that well or if it was sweet. Either way she had to give him hell for it. Otherwise she just wouldn't be Mary.

"I thought you'd lost your membership to the Psychic Friends Network." She retorted, happy to fall back on their usual banter and parry.

"Just Miss Cleo." He chuckled. "She really should have seen it coming, though."

Mary groaned at the bad joke, but smiled anyway. It was dark, and he wouldn't be able to see it.

"What's got you all riled up and awake at this time of night?" Her partner's voice was soft as it cut through the darkness.

"Nothing, Nancy."

"Nosy Nancy?" He got the reference instantly; a shared private joke between the two of them.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?"

Marshall laughed before answering. "Just you. And every girl I've ever dated."

Mary had no reply for that one. She was busy trying to figure out why any girl who managed to land a guy like Marshall would say something that hurtful to him. Then again, she'd said it, too. She said a lot of hurtful things to him on a daily basis, and he rarely fired back. When he did, it was never that mean. Never hurt her. He never hurt her. That was sobering. Mary was used to being hurt. She was used to guarding and watching and being ever vigilant to protect herself against the many weapons a man could fire her way. She had, over the years, discovered that she didn't been to be so watchful around his unusual man.

But Marshall. He shouldn't ever be used to being hurt. He was sweet and kind. Caring. Tender. Mary had wondered from time to time what kind of woman Marshall liked. She imagined him with a tiny homemaker; adorable and peppy. The kind of woman who made Wonder Woman look lazy as she balanced three beautiful children and a lovely household and probably volunteer work at the church. Only a guy like Marshall could have a life like that. He deserved it, too, Mary had to admit. He was perfect. The perfect guy. As close to Prince freaking Charming as a girl could get. The kind of guy Mary knew she'd never have. She scowled, rolled over a little, and took a deep, shaky breath. Life was unfair.

She was being lulled to sleep, though, without realizing it. Marshall had a secret weapon in his arsenal of ways to relax Mary, and he was using it. Gentle fingers in her hair took her to that sweet place of rest, and Marshall actually managed to follow.

Marshall woke before Mary the next morning. He needed to pee, but there was something preventing him from doing that. Mary was asleep, and laying mostly on top of him. Her face was buried in his neck, and one arm was curled around his head, fingers tangled in his hair. One leg was between his, and Marshall realized she was tantalizingly close to parts of his anatomy that were currently saluting. Should she awaken, she would likely pummel him into smithereens. If he stayed here much longer, though, he'd need dry pants. And she would likely pummel him to smithereens. He weighed his options, and opted on staying put for a few minutes more. He didn't want to wake her, for one. She'd had precious little sleep the past few weeks. Work had been hell for a while, and with her ongoing personal drama, he knew she'd spent many sleepless nights of late. Plus, he was comfortable. Why fix something that isn't broken?

He finally was driven from the bed by the urgency of his full bladder. Easing himself from underneath his stunning sleeping companion, he hurried to the bathroom, saddened that he had to leave the comfortable nest. The light on his watch told him it was only 0523. They didn't need to be up for a few hours yet. He sighed and ran his hand over his face, glancing in the mirror as he flipped on the light. He looked tired. And old. Life was getting away from him, and he needed to do something about it before there wasn't any life left to live. He was closer than ever to finally getting somewhere with Mary. God help him, he needed this to work. This week away from witnesses and drama and her ever insipid family members (save for Katie) had been a vacation for both of them in more ways than one.

They'd grown closer at friends and partners, and possibly something more. He tried to not get his hopes up too high. He'd been disappointed before, and he honestly worried another shootdown would be more than he could handle. Still, he had to try. He owed it to himself. He owed it to Mary. The goddamn universe owed it to Mary. He sighed as he washed his hands and examined his tired face more closely. His eyes were red, and the dark lines under them would prompt Mary to ask him if his someone beat the crap out of him, no doubt. They'd stayed out late; leisurely strolling around the Capitol until they found a small, independent coffee shop. They'd stopped in for coffee and desert, and sat in a seat by the window for hours talking and laughing. Mary had stolen bites of his pie, and he'd snuck forkfuls of her triple chocolate cake. It was like a date. And he'd loved it.

He'd made her laugh with stories of the antics of four little boys in the Texas countryside. Mischievous little boys got into everything from blowing up bottles behind the barn to attempting real life cow-tipping with the livestock in the back forty. Mary had mocked him when he said the phrase "back forty," and she asked him if his first date was named Bessie. He told her about the traveling he'd done. Three months in Europe between high school and university. He'd spent hours in the Reading Room and the British Library. Practiced his French in bohemian cafés in Rive Gauche on the banks of the Seine. Amused horror at his discovery of what the real Red Light District was in Amsterdam. Mary razzed him a little for not partaking in the local color there, but he just smiled knowingly and told her he'd gone to the Van Gogh museum while he was there.

Mary asked questions. Real questions, and he was happy to answer.

"_Were you scared by yourself in Europe?"_

_He'd thought about it for a minute before answering. "No, not really. I spoke enough French, German, and Spanish to get by. I think I was too young to know enough to be scared."_

"_Yeah?" She grew quiet and contemplative for a while. _

"_Did you go to Ireland?" She asked after some silence. _

"_Yeah." He answered quietly, sensing there was something to question more than just geography. _

"_I've always wanted to go there." She sounded wistful, and Marshall's throat constricted somewhat._

"_How come?" He queried._

"_My Grandma." Her eyes were far away. "She immigrated here from Ireland. She had this amazing accent, and she was so sweet. I'd just like to hear someone that sounds like her again."_

_Marshall reached across the table and clasped her hand in his. "We can go." He suggested hesitantly. "We can take vacation and go."_

"_I can't up and go to freaking Ireland, Marshall. Be realistic."_

"_Why not?" He shrugged. "You have a passport. I have a passport. If it's a luggage issue, we can easily remedy that. Stan would give us time off if we asked. Why not?"_

_She hadn't responded, but he could tell she'd been thinking about it. _

Flipping the light off before he opened the door, Marshall took a moment to allow his vision to adjust to the dark before heading back to bed. Mary hadn't moved from where he'd left her, and he carefully slid back under the covers.

"Mmmshhhhll." Mary mumbled as she snuggled back up against him and buried her face in his shoulder again.

Marshall closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. It was his name she muttered in her sleep as she reached for him. She reached for him. He knew he wouldn't be falling back asleep. It was his name she said in her sleep.

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_**A/N: I'm tired. I need another nap. I would, however, wake up to read reviews. Happy holidays, everyone! Build a snowman for me if you live in snowy weather!**_


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: I'm feeling better finally! No more colds, flu, or other viruses (knock on wood). It's getting chilly here, finally, and starting to look like Christmas. I hope you are all enjoying whatever holiday you prefer to celebrate! Here's chapter 18! Again, if you're from USA Network, please don't sue. You can have your characters back when either I'm done with them, or you decide to screw your heads on straight, unbunch your panties, and get the two of them together. Either one is fine with me. Thanks!_

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The exam was easy, and Mary knew she aced it. A seventy percent was all that was required for the CE credits to count, and Mary was certain that her score would reach well into the nineties. She smiled smugly as she handed in the obnoxious scantron form with her messily darkened bubbles. Marshall hadn't left yet, and she knew it was due to his obsessive compulsive need to ensure that each bubble was perfectly shaded. If she knew her partner, and truthfully, she did, she knew he had three pencils and two erasers, each sharpened just right so he could erase completely. No doubt he'd completed the exam sooner than anyone else in the overly warm room, but he was being his power nerd self, and she knew she could count on seeing him back at the room in a few minutes. Her partner caught her eye as she strode past him and gave her a strange smile. Maybe his smile wasn't strange, she mused later. Perhaps she was just in a strange mood. It was quite possible that the smile he tossed her way was his usual grin. His way of reassuring her that they were okay. That he'd see her later. God, she hated it when things got complicated. She had an annoying habit of overthinking things and making them more complicated than they really were.

She wondered back to their shared room and sprawled out on the bed, kicking her shoes off only after she was comfortable on her back. There was some serious thinking to be done here, and while she knew there wouldn't be time to fully work through this problem, she could at least get started. Her thoughts drifted back to the previous day. Marshall had hugged her – held her, really – right there on the beach after pleading with her to play hooky with him. She'd played in the ocean. Literally played. Carefree. Alive. It was the first time in years that she could remember just having that much pure fun. The fact that she'd had that degree of frivolity with her partner was not lost on her. She always had fun with him, or at least she had for a few years. They were friends now, and had been for most of their partnership, but things had changed. It was more than just friends. There was something below the surface. Smoldering. Bubbling. Threatening to erupt. She had tried her best to keep the inevitable at bay, but lately it seemed as though Marshall was hell bent on destroying what they had. She wasn't willing to lose him as a friend, and she knew her own track record with relationships. She had Marshall. He was her friend. Her was her partner. And she needed him to stay there. Any sort of romantic entanglement would risk both of those things, and she could not bear to lose that in her life.

Sitting up with a start, Mary looked around the room. Marshall would be back soon. So she needed to run. Literally. Running clothes were hurriedly thrown on, laces tightened and knotted. She needed to run. To clear her head. She needed to think. Her iPod was tossed on the mattress only to be grabbed at the last second before she hurried out of the room. Maybe the rhythmic drone of the music could drown out the mocking chanting in her head. Voices that told her she wasn't good enough. That she couldn't have a man like Marshall. That he'd never want her. Maybe she could figure things out.

She hadn't left a note. Her boots had been thrown haphazardly beside her luggage; running shoes conspicuously absent. Marshall was a smart man. He'd figure it out. Her feet beat the ground in a comforting, familiar tattoo. Left. Right. Left. Right. Breath one. Two. One. Two. She always thought more clearly after a good long run. It allowed her time to think. Make decisions without the badgering of family members. Being alone in the desert was a rare treat for Mary. Marshall had fitted her with a Camelback water system when he'd learned of her habit for running alone in the desert. He had also, secretly, implanted a GPS button in it, but she'd found it soon thereafter. Oddly, there was no giving him crap. No smacking. No throwing the offending piece of technology at him with a sneer and comment about how she didn't need him invading her privacy. Nothing. She'd merely returned the button and smiled. Her partner worried about her safety. There were worse things in the world than having someone who cared if you lived or died.

He did care, and she knew it. Whether she had wanted him to or not, her partner cared about her. She suspected that he would do pretty much anything she asked. That was a heady thing to deal with for a woman like Mary. She was independent. Headstrong. Just plain strong. She'd had to be; learned it at a young age and clung to it like a lifeline. Trust no one. Depend on no one. Except Marshall. Mary realized several years ago that she did trust him, and she depended on him. Sometimes she even almost admitted that she needed him. That was an unsettling thought. Mary didn't like depending on other people, and had a gut-level reaction to the mere idea of needing someone. However, Marshall had never given her a reason to doubt him. Even with a bullet in the chest, he'd saved her life. He worried over her. Doted. Protected. No one had done that for her in more years than she could count, but she knew that she could always count on him. He was always there for her, and tried like crazy to get her to understand that fact. That much even Mary knew. She wasn't blind. He cared for her, and she knew it. She had known if for years. What she'd only just discovered was that his affection was truly beyond friendship or partnership.

Mary remembered the conversation they'd had before her ill-fated trip to Mexico. With Faber. One mistake after another, and she finally understood what Marshall was talking about. She'd told him that she was thinking, but she hadn't. She put it as far out of her mind as possible, and only figured it out a few hours ago. Katie's words kept echoing in her head. Even Jinx chimed into the chorus of voices chucking it out for supremacy inside her head. _Let someone in. People love you. Let them. Maybe messy is what you need._ Messy. She and Marshall together would be messy. And disastrous. It wasn't that she'd never considered it. She'd spent plenty of time thinking about it. What it would be like to be in a relationship with Marshall. The numerous ways she'd drive him away if they ever did embark on that unfortunate relationship. He had thwarted her efforts thus far, though, she had to admit. No matter how much crap she flung at him, how many insults were tossed his direction, he just smiled and stayed. And asked her to _"tell me what you need." _And called her _"my girl."_ God, she hadn't been anyone's girl since she was seven. That's my girl. God, she'd almost castrated him by hand the first time he'd uttered those words, but over the years she had come to associate them with friendship. And she liked his friendship. He was good. Pure. Even.

Mary shook her head and paused to retie her shoe, smacking her hand on the cement as she stood. She had to stop this. Attempting to put the whole thing out of her mind once again, Mary tried to concentrate on the music, but failed miserably. No matter now intently she focused on the lyrics, her traitorous brain drifted back to the night before. The feeling of his arms tight around her. The smell of him as she nestled her face in the crook of his neck. The feel of his hand, large but tender, as his palm cupped the back of her head and held her to him. This warm lips as they brushed her forehead. She'd never been held by a man and liked it. But this was Marshall, and he wasn't like other men. He was quirky and goofy, and lacked that obnoxious machismo that she both gravitated toward and was irritated by. He learned for the sake of learning, and never bored of reading. He cooked. He gardened. He wasn't afraid to let someone question his masculinity, and Mary knew the reason why. He was as badass a man as anyone else, and criminals and cops the same were more likely to trust him if they didn't see him as a threat. He was sensitive and tough at the same time, and Mary had found the combination puzzling for a while. She understood it now, and woe be anyone who dared disparage him in her presence. Anyone. Including his father.

There were only three people in the world that she'd stand up for like that. Brandi, out of obligation and a healthy dose of sisterly love. Katie out of sheer devotion. And Marshall out of friendship, partnership, camaraderie, and…something else?

Marshall returned to the room to find it empty. A quick glance around told him what Mary knew he'd find: she'd gone running. He was accustomed to her habit of exercising for clarity. He ran behind her often enough at night when she needed to get out. After a few years of trying, he'd successfully convinced her to let him run behind her in the dark to make sure she was safe. They never talked. He didn't say a word. He just ran. He'd played it off as a bonus for both of them. He needed to work out, too, and it was just smart to use the buddy system. She'd called him a girl's name, but her eyes had thanked him. It wasn't uncommon for her to show up on his porch in the middle of the night and drag him out of bed to run. Sometimes they'd run the streets. Other times, especially if one of them was wrestling with something particularly difficult, they'd drive into the desert, strap headlamps on, and run side by side in the darkness. Marshall held his tongue until she stopped, then he'd point out constellations and tell her the stories behind them, and he never ran out of myths. Greek. Norse. Acoma. Chinese. Navajo. Sinagua. Athabascan. Upic. It seemed there was no mythology that he didn't know. Mary secretly loved his stories. The gentle cadence of his voice did as much to sooth her as the run itself, and she had accepted his place in her life. Let him do some things for her. They usually ended their late night runs with hot chocolate or tea that Mary always brought with her, and then showered at his house or hers. Mary slept in his guest room, or he on her sofa. They'd have a light breakfast in the morning, and be off to work. They both never failed to feel better after an excursion, no matter who initiated it.

Raphael's relationship with Mary hadn't managed to put a kink in their unscheduled running, much to Marshall's relief. It merely meant that they washed up and napped at his house rather than hers. It was a part of her Marshall never had to share, and that alone let him know that no matter what, was enough to sustain him. He knew that he and Mary were closer than she and Raphael ever were. Maybe they weren't as close physically, but he knew her. He knew all the parts of her. She let him into her life. Into her head. And she never let the ball player in like that. Scratch that, Marshall amended, she let him in once. And that singular action potentially jeopardized her life and his own. When Mary told him that the engagement was off, he'd literally held his breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for him to spill. Waiting for him to do something stupid. It never happened, thankfully. Mary was safe. He was safe. The witnesses were safe. And Marshall wasn't going to have to explain away the unexpected shooting of an unarmed civilian.

Mary was out of breath, which was unusual for her. She worked out regularly, ran with Marshall, and didn't have too much trouble with aerobic exercise as a rule. It was possible, she admitted, that she was running faster than usual. The topic she was wrestling lay heavy on her mind as she tried to figure out what to do. Why? How? Either way someone got hurt, and she hated knowing that she might hurt Marshall. Either way, it didn't look good. Walk away, and hurt him. Again. Or stay and ignore what's going on between them. And hurt him. Or try some sort of disastrous hoax of a relationship…and hurt him. For a brief second, Mary almost wished he'd never met her. If she didn't know him, then she wouldn't have to do this. She wouldn't have to make this decision. He wouldn't have to end up hurt, and it wouldn't have to be her fault.

She shivered, even in the heat, as her skin remembered the feel of his touch. Feather light and gentle. Warm. Tender. Just like he always was with her when she needed it. Mary hated being held. Constricted. Confined. She habitually shrugged off men who tried to hold her, especially while she slept. One night stands, even Raph, had been barred from too much touchy-feely crap. And that is why Mary was baffled by her reaction to Marshall the previous nights. She liked it. And that was concerning to her. Getting used to the affections of a man would only end in disappointment, and Mary was tired of disappointments. Men never stay, she told herself, but deep inside a little voice rang _out "Marshall did." _

"Damn it! I need to talk to Katie." Mary muttered out loud as she turned around and headed back. Katie would know what to do. She could point her north and send her safely on her way. Vowing to call her younger cousin and make amends once she returned to Albuquerque, Mary tried to put the situation out of her head and actually look at the scenery.

The trees were pretty, she observed. Green. Kind of lush. Manicured. Verdant lawns looked odd to her now, after nearly eight years in the high desert. Flowers of some unknown variety lined one of the sidewalks, and Mary tried to remember if Marshall had ever told her what kind they were. They looked common, like something she'd seen often as a child. They hadn't had a garden since…maybe ever, she stopped herself. Perhaps there had been some kind of planter out front of the little house in Jersey. Before.

Marshall was reclining on the mattress reading when she dragged herself back into the room, exhausted from the mental and physical efforts. She bent to read the title.

"_With the Old Breed?"_ She said aloud. "God, you're a super nerd."

"It's a fascinating book, Mare. Details the war in the Pacific, not just the European front like you read about in school."

"Say anything about us winning?" Ever-interested in the bottom line, Mary appreciated getting to the point with brevity.

"I'm sure there will be a mention. Maybe a footnote." He said matter of factly just to watch her roll her eyes.

"I'm taking a shower." She tossed the words over her shoulder as she opened the door to the bathroom, removing her shirt before closing the door.

Marshall gulped at the sight of her in shorts and her sports bra. He'd seen her in less just yesterday at the beach, but it was a sight he figured he'd never grow tired of seeing. Reading after that scene wasn't likely to happen. Concentration shot, he closed his book sat it on the nightstand next to the alarm clock. A deep sigh rattled his bones a bit as he closed his eyes and replayed the vision. Mary. So close. And so very far away at the same time. Progress was slow, and always would be. There was no point in putting a time limit on dealings with Mary. Her trust had been difficult enough to earn; the last thing he needed to do was rush her and mess things up.

Emerging from the bathroom with a puff of steam and a cough, Mary paused to view her partner dozing on the bed. Still sitting mostly upright, he looked relaxed. Unburdened. At ease. He goofed off often enough, but he held his tension between his shoulders. She would know. She'd worked it out of his muscles often enough in the past eight years. Well, mostly the last five, she amended mentally. It was a few years until she was willing to gratuitously touch him. He was so damn proper all the time it just never seemed wrong. She didn't mind anymore, though, and volunteered to help him out when he needed. He'd told her that she had magic fingers once, and she'd just chuckled and told him that he had no idea. Marshall had blushed, to her delight, and she'd wondered just exactly what he'd been thinking.

It was nice, being here with him like this. No witnesses. No real worries. No family clamoring for her attention or checkbook. Just the two of them. Friends. Together. Something else? God, that question was getting irritating to her. There shouldn't be anything else. Except...

* * *

_A/N: Two more days of this rotation left! It was a good one. I don't think I have a future in geriatrics or hospice and palliative care, but I did appreciate learning. Lovely patients. _


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note: Yay! Christmas is over. It was fun when I was a kid, but now it's just stressful. As obligatory gift-buying holidays go, this one wasn't too bad. I'm on surgery rotation now. The first week or so were rough. There were thoughts of quitting med school, finding a nice ranch and working there for the rest of my life, but I think surg and I have reconciled for now. I even had fun the last few days (step back!) My doc let me close a few days ago, and I got to open yesterday. So it's okay that I don't have a future in surgery, but I am at least enjoying it for now. So, without further ado, let's get down to chapter 19! Thanks for still reading!

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Mary was bored. And her feet hurt. Damn heels didn't make for a comfortable day of standing, and her ability to pretend she was interested was waning. Marshall had warned her to wear some form of comfortable footwear, and she had rolled her eyes at him and glared. After six straight hours at the Smithsonian, however, she was more than just uncomfortable; she was in actual physical pain.

Marshall was in heaven, she observed, and she vowed to keep her discomfort to herself. The blister she was sporting on her heel was making things difficult, but she could do it. The rapt look on her partner's face, and his childlike gasps of pleasure and awe were enough to drive her into silence. They had been in the Sackler gallery at the Smithsonian for a good three hours already, having already spent another hour at the Postal Museum and two at National Design Museum. Mary had nearly had an aneurism when he'd announced the Postal Museum was their first stop.

"You've got to be kidding me." She deadpanned. "A Postal Museum? Stamps? There's a whole museum to stamps?"

Marshall hadn't responded, just nodded knowingly and led her into the atrium. She had grudgingly admitted to having a good time. The museum had contained more than merely stamps, and she'd laughed when she'd seen the metal stars the postal workers used to wear. The sleds had brought an appreciative "glad I don't have to ride in that."

She hadn't enjoyed the Design Museum, and she knew that Marshall was trying to make things interesting for her. She knew her interests were not as widespread as her partner's, but was enjoying the current gallery. Marshall's pursuit of origami mastery had propelled him into a gallery filled with Asian art, and his exuberance was nothing short of contagious. They were pursuing a gallery of ancient Chinese jades and bronzes, and she was surprised to find that the items were beautiful.

"Mary!" She heard him exclaim breathlessly as they stood in the doorway leading from one gallery to another.

"What?" She whispered back unconsciously.

"Look!" He pointed to something, but she wasn't sure what it was.

"What am I looking at?" Still whispering.

"The painting. Look at that painting!"

She followed his gaze and her eyes rested on a painting of unknown origin.

"What about it?" She whispered, but realized too late that he was no longer beside her.

"Look at it!" He wasn't giving anything away, and she was having trouble guessing.

Rather than wait for him to explain, she paused, and looked at the painting, read the information on the wall beside it, and studied it again. It was Persian, and was opaque watercolor and gold on paper from a manuscript that she didn't recognize.

"It's beautiful." She admitted quietly, not wanting to disturb his reverent silence. Perhaps this day wouldn't be terrible after all.

"It is." He agreed, then noticed her shifting from foot to foot. "Are you okay?" He knew the telltale signs of Mary when her feet hurt.

"I'm fine." She stopped fidgeting instantly.

"You're feet are killing you, and you're about to fall over or find a spot on the floor and sit until I carry you out of here kicking and screaming at me to put you down." He observed.

"No!" She frowned at him for knowing her too well as she protested weakly. Her feet really did hurt. "I'm fine. Really."

"Uh huh." He didn't believe her for a minute. "Come on." He leaned toward her and clasped his hand around her hipbone and drew her toward him.

"Wait just a minute!" She resisted, planting her feet and refusing to budge. "Where are we going?"

"Your feet hurt." He was staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

"My feet are fine." She snapped back, regretting instantly the acid in her voice.

"Let's get your other shoes." Marshall insisted. He'd been watching her for a few hours now, and he knew the signs of Mary when her feet hurt. She could be crabby when her feet hurt, and he saw no reason to deal with crabby Mary when he could just fix the problem.

"I'm not buying new shoes, Doofus." She swatted his hand off her hip as she backed away from him.

"Not new ones, Mare." He followed her retreat. "Your sandals are in the car."

"My sandals." She repeated. "Are in the car?"

"And your running shoes." He nodded. "And your boots, because I know you like to have options."

She glanced down at her shoes, then her jeans. The three inch heels were making her feet hurt, and her back was likewise protesting.

"I don't have socks." She wouldn't be Mary if she didn't argue.

"I brought socks for you." He grinned. "Gym socks for running shoes, and boot socks for…"

Mary wondered about how he had managed to slip her footwear into the vehicle without her noticing.

"Come on." He urged, hand curling around her waist one more as he pulled her toward him once more. "Let's go get your shoes, then we can come back in. You can pick the next gallery." He dangled the carrot in front of her, but knew it was a soggy incentive at best.

"When did you steal my shoes?" She asked quietly as she limped her way back to the car.

"Last night." He shrugged. "I knew you'd pick the heels, and I didn't figure you'd notice if I moved the other ones."

He was right. He'd tidied up the room the night before, and she had assumed that anything she couldn't find was due to him moving them to a neater location. He knew her too well.

She peeled her heels off, grimacing as the blisters caught and tore. Reaching for the socks he held out to her, hid her bleeding feet from him. It didn't work. She never got anything past her partner.

"You're bleeding." He tossed the socks behind her and squatted down to examine her wounds.

"I'm fine." She leaned back and retrieved her socks. Bending one leg up to slip the cotton garment on, her breath caught in her chest when Marshall snagged her foot and held it fast.

"You're not fine. You're bleeding." He held her foot carefully, not noticing the daggers she was sending him or the funny looks he got from passers-by. The blister on her heel was nothing compared to the one on the ball of her foot. Her smallest toe was dripping still from the when the blister popped.

"Why do you wear these things?" He asked in amazement as he inspected the damage. Her foot was placed carefully down, and he ensured it was left dangling while he retrieved the first aid kit he carried. Mary had given him plenty of hell for bringing the backpack, but he found himself grateful as he rummaged for bacitracin and bandaids, but he feared the latter wouldn't stick, so he grabbed a roll of Vet Wrap and carefully wrapped it around her gauze-encased foot.

Mary held her tongue as she watched him with curiosity.

"Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?" His voice was soft as he settled next to her on the back bumper as she laced up her shoes. "We could have done this hours ago, and you wouldn't have blisters the size of Rhode Island."

She shrugged, and waited before responding. "If they're just the size of Rhode Island, then I'd say I'm lucky. Montana-sized would be troubling, but I can handle Rhode Island. Or one of those other little states back east. Connecticut. Or maybe Delaware. "

"So why didn't you tell me?" He pushed again, feeling guilty that she would go through this much pain for his enjoyment at a museum. That should tell him something about her devotion to him, shouldn't it?

Mary shrugged, but responded anyway. "I knew you'd turn right around and drive back to Quantico."

She was right. He would. The fact that she knew that he would do that for her warmed him inside. Perhaps she was getting it.

"Or just let you change your shoes."

"I didn't know they were in the car."

"Mare." Nothing. He had nothing else to add. He wondered if he should have told her about the shoes. Seemingly insignificant bits of information that become so important in hindsight. Save her from pain; hadn't that been his mantra the past few years? Pain, both physical and emotional, had been something he'd tried so hard to shield her from, as he supposed she'd had enough of both for a dozen lifetimes.

"What?" Mary interrupted his flogging.

"What?" He countered, painting his best impression of innocence across his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She wasn't sure if she liked the way he was looking at her; his face a mixture of sadness and longing.

"Can you walk?" Maybe changing the subject would work. "Are you in too much pain?"

"I'm fine." She pushed to her feet and jumped up and down to prove she could walk. "Let's go back to the gallery and let you finish gawking at the cranes."

Marshall closed the trunk and locked the car, then jogged to catch up with Mary.

"There's more than just cranes in Japanese art, you know." He started to begin a commentary on the proper way to view classic Japanese paintings, but thought better of it. "You know, let's just go back to the gallery and I'll show you."

"Whatever, Pikachu." She elbowed him in the ribs and grinned.

Marshall watched Mary closely for any more signs of discomfort as they strolled around the galleries, but found little to none. She walked gingerly, and possibly wouldn't be up to a footrace to chase down a criminal, but she did seem fine. She let him pick the food for lunch, and ended up eating Korean food from a food cart.

"What is this?" She sniffed her food and wrinkled her nose.

"Bibimbap." He pointed to her dish. "And bulgogi. And kimbap."

"Looks like sushi." She shrugged.

"Sort of, except it's all cooked. Try it." He urged. "I really think you'll like it."

"And what's that?" She pointed back at her entrée, but was thwarted from further comment by Marshall shoving a piece of kimbap in her mouth."

"Chew." He ordered. "You'll like it."

She did as she was told, and was pleasantly surprised at the flavors that greeted her taste buds.

"You trust me?" He asked when it became clear that she wasn't going to hit him or spit out the food at him.

She nodded in assent.

"Then eat your food." He pushed it closer to her on the park bench. "I wouldn't order something I don't think you'd like." He took a bite of his lunch, and finished. "And if you hate yours, you can eat mine." He paused. "Or I'll get you a burger or something."

She carefully took a bite, and was pleased to admit that Marshall was right. He knew her, and the food was delicious. She made a note to add Korean to her list of foods that she liked.

"Good, huh?" Marshall asked around a bite.

"Mmm hmm." She snagged another piece of kimbap and popped it in her mouth.

"Want some?" He held his Styrofoam container out to her and smiled when she grabbed her chopsticks and tested his lunch as well.

They ate their lunch in relative silence, until Mary grew irritated.

"I liked that museum." She broke in.

"Yeah?" Marshall's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"You don't have to sound so shocked." She muttered.

"I'm not shocked, Mary." He consoled. I'm…glad. That's all. I wasn't sure it was your kind of museum."

"And yet you dragged me into it, and spent four and a half hours scouring its every nook and cranny." She retorted.

"It was closer to four hours."

"Fine, four hours and twenty eight minutes."

"Four hours and eight minutes, maybe, but why were you counting if you liked it so much?"

"I wasn't counting; I just like to keep tabs on what time it is."

"Ahh. Mary Shannon. Human timepiece."

"You're a loon." She chuckled as she tried to shove him off the bench. She wasn't counting on him shoving back, so she was unprepared for his counter push that had her landing in a heap on her rear.

"You pushed me!" She exclaimed from the ground. "I can't believe you pushed me off the bench!"

"I'm sorry!" He was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out. "Here! Let me help you." He offered her his hand, but they were both overcome with laughter and he could barely pull her off the ground.

Once Mary was safely settled on the park bench once again, Marshall continued his apologizing, only to be cut off by Mary stuffing another piece of kimbap in his mouth.

"Hush." She admonished firmly but warmly. "I'm fine. I know you didn't mean to. I'm fine."

Marshall mumbled something unintelligible around his bite that Mary took to mean he was glad she's okay. In an uncharacteristic move, she leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"What was that for?" He asked after he swallowed a few times to get the kim out of his teeth.

Mary shrugged. "Nothing." She blushed and Marshall found it endearing. "Just forget it."

Marshall was beaming, and he hoped she didn't notice his poorly concealed grin. "Do you have a preference for the next activity?"

Mary had to think about it. She might be museumed out, but she had an inkling that her partner was not.

"Want to walk around a little and then hit the Indian museum or the Holocaust one?" That sounded like a reasonable compromise.

"The American Indian Museum?" Marshall corrected gently, familiar with her refusal to do anything that might be considered politically correct.

She glared at him in response, and Marshall canned the urge to kiss her on the lips…or more.

They strolled along the National Mall, stopped at the Lincoln Memorial again. Reflected in the pool of water in front of the Washington Monument. It was getting late when they were through at the museum, and Mary's head was so full of facts about the indigenous people of North America that she thought it just might explode. Marshall, she realized fifteen minutes into their tour, was a far more interesting tour guide than the one leading the group in front of them around. She grabbed his hand and pulled him the opposite direction, and was treated to his solitary commentary on the history of the Lakota Sioux.

"Dinner?" Mary was famished, and she figured that her bottomless pit of a partner was as well.

"Somewhere nice?" He'd done some research before this outing, and he knew just the place he wanted to take her.

"I'm in jeans and sneakers." She pointed out. "And you're in cowboy boots."

"So?"

"I'm not and sweaty." She paused. "And windblown."

"You look beautiful, and we're never going to see any of these people again. What does it matter how we're dressed?"

He glossed over the compliment so quickly that Mary wasn't even certain she'd heard him correctly.

"But if you're concerned, we can always go somewhere more casual." He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, and there were nice places in New Mexico that he could take her if the relationship continued to progress.

"Casual would be good."

They had Greek food, and Mary rediscovered baklava.

"God, this is heavenly." She bit into a flaky piece of pastry, and Marshall felt his abdomen tighten as he watched her eyes roll back in ecstasy. "You can't get this in Albuquerque." She licked her lips, and Marshall glanced around warily looking for an exit. "I forgot how much I missed it."

A slow sip of coffee did nothing to quell Marshall's tension. She took another bite and moaned. "Okay, you seriously have to stop that." He said quietly, but in a tone that let her know he wasn't joking.

"Stop what?" He wasn't joking, but she wasn't certain of what he was referring.

"Stop eating like that. Just…eat your baklava and stop…that."

Mary stared at him briefly while her brain caught up, then she blushed again. Marshall found her blush just as endearing the second time.

"Sorry." She mumbled, embarrassed. She definitely needed to talk to Katie.

* * *

A/N: Yeah. So, remember how I'm on a surgery rotation now? Uh huh. I'm exhausted, and I can barely keep my eyes open long enough to go season the guacamole (trust me, that's saying something. I LOVE guacamole, and mine is amazing). ANYway…here's chapter 19. I only own Katie and the typos. I hope there aren't too many typos, but kindly ignore (or gently inform me of such). Hugs to you all if you read this far! Take care.


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's Note: Chapter 20 at long last! School got away from me, and so did the flu, a broken wrist, and every other catastrophe you could imagine. Still sick (flu again, round 3). Wrist is mostly healed (still working on weight bearing, but that did make typing difficult). School is easier when you're not running a ridiculously high fever. I hope you like this one! There should be an epilogue coming, but I'll be a little busy for the next few weeks, so it'll be a few before I can get it out. _

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The airport was packed, and Marshall's height was an advantage. He had somehow managed to lose Mary in the crowd, and was scanning over the heads of most people to find her. A few blond heads had turned out to not be his partner, and he was getting desperate as he watched the minutes tick by on his watch. They had to get to their gate. They would be getting into town late as it was with all the layovers, and he wanted to prepare for the next week's workload. A few steps toward a patch of blonde hair were thwarted as he failed to recognize his partner's figure from behind. It could pick out her figure in the dark; he'd spent plenty of time staring at it. Not in a creepy, psycho-stalker sort of way; more appreciative. Almost worshipful. Grateful, recently, that she was there in person for him to look at since her shooting.

"Doofus!" He voice carried over the din. "Yo! Marshall!"

Swirling around on his heel, he made his way toward the source of the voice. "Turn your phone on." Mary greeted him all-business as she grabbed her carry-on and dragged him toward the gate. "It's easier to receive messages and phone calls if you actually turn the contraption ON!" Marshall swallowed as she retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the "power on" button. The screen lit up and showed three missed calls and several missed texts all from his partner.

"See?" She held up the gadget in front of him. "Turn phone on. Receive message. Find partner. Get to plane on time." He grinned at her smirk, then his expression tightened when she slid his phone back in his pocket herself.

Mary walked ahead a ways, then paused and turned around when she realized that Marshal was not with her. "You coming?" She shot him a look that clearly said "hurry up," so he shuffled toward her and tried to look nonchalant.

Marshall slept on the plane part of the way, but kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to think about what would happen when they returned to New Mexico. Things would, no doubt, change. Mary would go back to her house. Back to her room. They would go back to just being partners and friends. And he would return to spending his nights alone. It wasn't that he hadn't tried dating since he met Mary. There had been some ladies; some he even really cared for, but it wasn't fair to them. It was unfair to misrepresent himself as a man unattached when another woman held his heart and attentions. None of the relationships went very far, and aside from a few rolls in the hay with some of the ladies that lasted longer, he'd been very alone for quite some time. Would it ever change?

Mary couldn't sleep. She banged her head against the seat back and closed her eyes, and tried to forget. She tried to forget her own body's reaction to Marshall. The way he smelled. The tender way he held her at night when he was sleeping. She had awakened early that morning to find her leg flung across Marshall's long limbs; her knee and hip flexed comfortably. Her face had been buried in his neck, and she'd inhaled his scent while her brain took a moment to take stock of all the anatomy. Her partner had one arm around her back, hand gently resting on her rib cage, and the other was somewhere else altogether. Marshall's other hand was resting on her thigh; sneaky long fingers creeping under her shorts with fingertips millimeters from the edge of her panties. And she hadn't minded at all. Was that a problem?

A deep sigh roused Marshall, and he turned his head without lifting it to eye her carefully. "You okay, Mare?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "I'm good." It wouldn't be long now, and she'd be back in her own home. She made a mental note to call her cousin and set things right between them when she got back. Fighting with Katie always set her on edge; had her listing slightly off-kilter like a top about to cease spinning. There were some people, Mary admitted, that just grounded her. Kept her even. Katie. Marshall. Her support system consisted only of those two individuals, but they were very important to her. Without moving her head Mary snuck a glance at her partner. Asleep; or feigning convincingly more like. He was relaxed. Eyes loose. The edges of his mouth curled up ever so slightly like he was laughing at his own private joke.

"He probably is." Mary muttered under her breath.

"Who is what?" Marshall's head lolled over to face her and her eyes met blue.

"Nothing." Covering ungracefully for the momentary lapse. "Nothing's anything."

"What?"

Maybe he had been sleeping. "Go back to sleep, Marshall. Sorry I woke you."

"Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question. He knew her well enough to tell without questioning.

Shoulders shrugged in response.

"Call her." Marshall urged quietly, bravely closing his hand around hers on the armrest between them. "You two will work things out."

"Mmmhmmm." Why did he always know what she was thinking? That room he was renting was getting a little cramped. Perhaps he should consider moving out of her head and taking up residence somewhere…more scenic. Less eventful. Less populated with her own brand of family drama.

The rest of the flight passed in relative peace, and Mary even managed to grab a few minutes of sleep despite her nerves. The fact that Marshall had draped his jacket over her torso once she'd dozed off was not lost on her, nor was the fact that he continued hogging the airline blanket. In truth, his jacket was warmer, and most likely cleaner. Also the fact that it smelled charmingly like him encouraged her to maintain possession of the garment until the plane had landed and the ban on cellular phones was lifted.

They found Marshall's truck with no problem, a fact that lent credence to Mary's theory that her partner was, in fact, hatched, and most likely part machine. The familiar cadence of his voice calmed her frazzled nerves as they fell into their well-practiced rhythms while he drove. Brandi's car was in the driveway, a fact that made Mary sigh. That meant drama. Marshall would have pulled in and parked beside Brandi, but there was an unfamiliar vehicle blocking him from doing so. Mary inspected the car from the passenger seat of Marshall's truck as he parallel parked and grabbed her bags.

"I can get those, Doofus." She managed to wrench one from his grasp, but was distracted by the sight on her front porch. A familiar figure stood up and waited.

"Katie." She breathed, and Marshall's head turned to follow her gaze.

The look on her cousin's face was unreadable, and Marshall flashed a questioning look at his new friend. No response was granted as the women's eyes remained locked on each other's.

"You got this?" Marshall slipped her other bag over her shoulder and nodded his goodbye to the young woman on the porch before hurrying to his truck. Those two had some talking to do, and the last thing he wanted to do was get in the way of it. Hopefully this would mean that he could have his partner back – at the very least. _"That's not all you want." _That nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him.

"Mary." Katie started once her cousin was close enough to hear. "I just wanted to…"

She never got a chance to complete the thought, though, because her cousin swallowed her in a giant bear hug.

"I'm sorry." Mary murmured quietly, a tad embarrassed once they separated.

"Me, too." The smile on Katie's face was all Mary needed to know that they were truly okay. "You went on a business trip?" She nodded toward the luggage.

"Um, yeah. For a few days."

"Have a good time?"

Mary was relieved to have one relative that understood not to pry. "I did, actually. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They stood awkwardly, each nearly bursting with what needed to be said before Brandi stuck her head out the front door.

"Are you two going to stare at each other all night, or should I order in dinner for three?"

"Hang on a second." Katie was pulling Mary into the house by her forearm. "I have something I want to show you."

"Hold on!" Mary paused and pointed back outside. "That car is yours?"

"It is!" She countered, daring Mary to say anything further.

"Okay." Mary drew out as Brandi ushered them indoors. "What's for dinner?"

"First things first." Brandi insisted uncharacteristically. "Katie has some sort of secret, and she wouldn't tell me without you being here. Surprise, surprise." The end of her sentence trailed off in sarcasm that she did not even attempt to hide. She had long been jealous of the connection her sister seemed to have with their cousin. A childhood of inside jokes and two-sided secrets that never seemed to include her had left her wary of the shorter woman. Or perhaps merely jealous, she reasoned. Katie had always been nice enough to her.

"Okay, first you two need to sit down." Katie pointed to the sofa, and moved to stand in front of the coffee table. "Sit!" She motioned impatiently for them to take seats.

Once her cousins were seated, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "Okay, two things." Mary was getting impatient as well, and the look on her face was enough to send the words flying out of her mouth. "One, I was accepted to work on a project at school. It's huge! We're testing the equivalence principle in collaboration with this group at Stanford! We have to modify at least one of the laws of relativity to figure this thing out! This research could be life-changing! The biggest, most important discovery of this century! And I get to be a part of it!"

Mary could clearly see that her friend was excited, but she had no earthly idea what she was talking about. "That's great, Kay!" Enthusiasm was attempted, but it fell flat. Brandi's response, thankfully, took the heat off of Mary.

"Does that mean we're like, not related or something? Or are you just trying to figure out…wait, what are you doing?"

"No, relativity." Katie said with finality, as if that cleared matters up for Brandi.

"Einstein, Squish." Mary tried to help as much as she could. "E equals M C squared."

"What?"

"Major research in theoretical and astrophysics." Katie tried a different angle.

"Oh. What's that got to do with relatives?"

"I'll have Marshall explain it to her later." Mary promised, as she ushered her to continue. "What's this second news?"

"Oh, even bigger." It had to be good. The girl was practically levitating off the floor from the effort of containing it.

"Get on with it!" Brandi caught her cousin's enthusiasm.

"Um." She hadn't planned on being nervous. "I'm engaged." Her face was radiant. "Jason proposed."

"I don't understand." Mary's query was nearly drowned out by the sound of Brandi congratulating her. "I thought he was on deployment."

"He is." She extracted a disk from her purse. "He sent friends."

"We have to watch it!" Brandi was gushing. "We have to watch it! This is so romantic!"

"Well, we should celebrate." Mary stated as she hugged her congratulations. "What should we order?"

"Oh!" Katie's eyes lit up. "I know! That new pizza place at Alameda and Rio Grande is phenomenal! Do they deliver here?"

"Hang on." Brandi was already on it. "Let me check." One phone call later, the women were disappointed to discover that they lived too far from the restaurant for delivery.

"We could go out." Katie suggested.

"Then we can't drink." Mary was always the voice of reason. Well, sort of. Sometimes.

"You two can. I'll drive."

"It's your party." Brandi laughed. "I'll drive."

"We don't want to die, Squish. I'll drive." She paused. "Wait! Even better! Marshall!"

"Marshall's driving?"

"No." She was already on the phone. "Hey, are you home yet?"

Marshall was driving slowly towards his house contemplating his dinner options. There wasn't much in the way of food at his house at the moment. He'd cleaned out his fridge before the trip to Virginia. There was little he hated more than coming home to a refrigerator full of fuzzy science experiments. He had some frozen food, but nothing that piqued his interests. Maybe he could try that new Malaysian place he'd been reading about. The review were promising, and he felt like changing things up a bit after the letdown of coming back to New Mexico. He had an odd sensation of loss when he dropped off his partner. He'd miss falling asleep with her in his arms. Waking up to her blonde hair tickling his nose and breathing in her unique scent. Feeling that close to her had been a dream come true, and while he knew that the dream would end eventually, but he was unprepared for how difficult this proved to be.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he fished it out of his pocket and smiled.

"Marshall!" The voice on the other end of the line made his smile widen. He hadn't anticipated the phone call tonight.

Katie and Brandi craned to hear the other side of the conversation.

"Can you do me a favor? What's the name of the place?" She looked at Brandi and Katie.

"Pizza Palace."

"Can you drop buy Pizza Palace and bring back, what, three pizzas?" Nods of assent all around. "Three." She paused again. "And beer."

"Fine, yes. I'll pay you back." Directions were given, and Marshall was shocked to hear the merriment in the background. As much as he did not relish the idea of playing delivery boy to Mary, perhaps one of them would invite him to stay. As much as spending a night alone appealed to him, spending it with company and companionship seemed even better. Even with chaperones.

"Thank god! Took long enough!" Mary grabbed the pizzas from him, and walked away leaving Marshall standing in the foyer holding beer. "You coming in?" She called over her shoulder. "I hope you got enough for four!"

The merriment in the Shannon household was palpable, but he had yet to ferret out the cause. Brandi was prancing around the kitchen grabbing plates and napkins. Katie was setting something up in the DVD player, and even Mary seemed downright chipper.

"Katie." He nodded, and added a verbal greeting this time. "Good to see you again." He gave in eventually, remembering his vow to thank her, and hugged her warmly.

"Likewise." She smiled at him as he released her, and he noticed how her eyes were glittering with joy. "How've you been?"

"Can't complain." He smiled secretively, remembering the recent nights with Mary.

"Nobody's listening anyway." She joked. "There's really no point."

The joke was old, but Marshall smiled anyway. He appreciated antiquated humor, especially when the source left his partner smiling and happy.

"You ladies having a party?" He inquired.

"Of sorts." Katie started.

"Did you tell him?" Brandi bounded into the living room with a bowl of chips and two liters of soda. "Does he know?"

"Shhh." Mary scolded as she breezed in behind her sister carrying plates and napkins. "It's Katie's news. Let her tell him."

"Somebody tell me something." He hadn't spent time with the three of them before. It was pretty cute.

"Katie!" Brandi was about to lose it, and they could all tell. Her ability for keeping secrets wasn't as much legendary as it was infamous.

"Marshall, Jason proposed, and I accepted."

He was momentarily stunned. He hadn't anticipated this.

"And I get to work on a really cool research project." He chuckled when she looked even more excited about the research than the engagement.

"Which you need to explain to Brandi." Mary quipped. "I tried. It didn't work."

"Well best wishes on the engagement, and congratulations on the research!" He bent over and hugged her again. Good news was good news, and it deserved a celebration. No wonder the women were ecstatic. This was cause for festivities.

"Well, ladies, let the party begin!" With that, Marshall marched into the kitchen and extracted Mary's bottle opener, opening four frosty beverages and handing one in turn to each person present while Katie dished out pizza onto plates. Mary popped microwave popcorn, and Brandi chattered about wedding dresses and bachelorette parties as she tossed salads together. When the meal was ready, such as it was, the foursome moved back into the living room and gathered around the coffee table. Brandi curled up like a cat on the floor in front of the chair while the other three shared the sofa.

"Tell us how it happened!" Brandi gushed. "I thought he was still in Iraq with the Army."

"He's in Afghanistan." Mary corrected. "And he's in the Marines."

"There's a difference?" Brandi wrinkled her nose, and Marshall wondered for the umpteenth time how she could be related to Mary…and Katie, for that matter. "It's all the same war, right. Does it matter?"

Katie answered with grace that only she could possess. "They are separate countries, that do share certain linguistic and cultural similarities, and you _could_ make an argument that it is the same war. As for the other thing, the Army and the Marine Corps are separate branches of the Armed Forces that do, at times, have certain overlapping and similar functions."

"Oh." Brandi looked deflated.

"But you're right." Katie went on quickly. "He's overseas fighting." That seemed to perk Brandi up a tad.

Marshall jumped in and changed the subject before Brandi could get too much more deflated. "So, he's overseas. How did he propose?"

Katie smiled wistfully before telling them. "Two of his buddies just got sent home, and they came to visit me with a DVD, and a check."

"A check?" Mary quizzed.

"For the ring." Katie continued. "So I can pick one out that I like." She paused. "Just watch the damn DVD."

Brandi insisted that they watch the movie over and over again, and each time they did, Mary grew quieter. Marshall noticed, however, that with each viewing she moved closer to him. By the end of the fifth her back was flush against his chest and his arm was tantalizingly close to wrapping all the way around her. The girls were all starting to yawn, Mary included, and Marshall caught himself dozing off somewhere in the middle of Brandi's third rendition of the wedding. So far she'd picked colors, flowers, dress designs, and reception menus.

Katie dozed off while Brandi was planning, but woke up and hugged her younger cousin affectionately. "Sweetie, you can plan this for me tomorrow, but right now I need to go to sleep."

"Sure, Kay." Brandi nodded.

"Katie, you can stay in Jinx's old room." Mary rose, and Marshall felt the immediately loss of her proximity. "I'll get you some stuff."

Mary rummaged around for a spare toothbrush and some pajamas, then knocked quietly.

"Come on in." Katie giggled as Mary poked her head inside.

"Want some pjs?"

"Sure." She slipped into the bathroom to change and wash up for bed.

"Mare?" She was surprised to find her still there. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Mary was sitting cross-legged on the bed. "But I need to talk to you."

"Okay." Katie flopped down and mirrored the stance. "Talk. I'm listening."

This was going to be hard, and Mary knew it. Talking was not something that she did well; not this kind of talking anyway. But this was Katie, and she could trust her to keep her secrets.

"I went on a business trip with Marshall." Katie nodded. "We had to go to this conference."

"Was this conference in a swanky resort?"

Mary remembered cold nights on the floor of Marshall's dorm room. "Not exactly."

Point taken. Katie let it go. "Okay. Continue."

"I…" She started, then hesitated once more. Admitting this out loud would be difficult, and she wasn't certain how she could actually get this out.

"Spit it out, Shannon." Katie gently teased her. "It's me. Just say it."

"I slept with Marshall." Mary grimaced as soon as the words came out, but it was too late.

"You SLEPT with Marshall!" Katie whispered as loudly as possible, mindful of the guest in the other room.

"No, not like that. I mean I actually just slept with him. You know, sleep? That thing you do at night."

"Oh." Katie shrugged. "Okay?"

"Katie." Mary sighed. How was she ever going to explain this?

"So you're worried that you slept beside Marshall, and you kind of liked it, right?" Katie made it easier for her. God bless the girl. She was good at that.

Mary nodded, then asked the question she'd been burning to ask. Well. Sort of. "He likes to cuddle." She couldn't stop the sneer.

This did not surprise Katie. She figured him for an affectionate man. "You don't like to cuddle." She observed.

"Not as a rule, no." Her voice was higher pitched than usual.

"But you like it when it's Marshall doing the cuddling."

"Katie, I…he…I don't know."

"But you didn't hate it." This would be easier for her to admit than actually liking it.

"Maybe." A shrugged shoulder and evasive glance.

"And now you're wondering if that's something you could have all the time?" Mary nodded reluctantly.

"And you're thinking that Marshall's a great guy, and a good friend, and you'd like to have a guy like that around for a while, am I right?"

"Yes." Mary croaked. God, she sounded pathetic.

"Well you don't have to sound so glum about it." Katie teased her. "It's not a terrible thing to figure out that you love a great guy."

"I never said that!" Mary protested.

"Mary?"

"Katie?" Mary parroted back in a sing-song voice.

"Let me explain something to you." She knelt in front of her friend and took her face between her hands. "Mary, you're my cousin, and my very best friend. I love you like you're my own sister, but you seriously have issues."

Mary had to laugh. Katie always did have a way of putting things simply.

"Mare, let me give it to you straight. That man loves you. He's a good man, a good friend to you, and he loves you. It's not the worst thing in the world to discover that you're in love with a guy like that."

"Katie, I can't." Mary croaked, holding back tears.

"Why?" She countered. "Because you're dad walked out on you? Because you have a metric butt ton of baggage? Because you have issues with commitment and trust?"

"Those all sound good." Mary said quietly. "But he's my friend."

"And that's a bad thing because?"

"Because I'll screw it up."

"Maybe he won't let you?"

"Trust me, Kay." Mary fell back against the bed. "I can screw anything up."

"Trust me, Mare." Katie moved to lie beside her. "He won't let anything screw this up if you just go out there and tell him what you feel."

"Uh huh." Mary was unconvinced, and the look on her face said it plainly.

This was a look Katie was used to, though, and she had years of practice. There were times that being Mary's friend was difficult, but seeing how deeply she'd been hurt was even harder. Knowing how alone she'd been her whole life, how she'd felt when her father abandoned her. The way she held everyone else away from her to save herself from that kind of pain again.

"Mary, has Marshall ever hurt you?"

A petulant shake was her only response.

"Do you think he ever would?"

An eye roll accompanied the shake this time.

"So, what's the hold up?" Was she seriously going to let this man slip through her fingers? Not if Katie had anything to say about it. "You've got a beautiful man out there who loves you and just wants to be with you. He wants to love you. Wants you to let him love you. Just…go let him."

"It's not that simple." Mary protested. "There are other issues here that have to be dealt with."

"Sure, like the whole you two aren't supposed to work together and date. I get that, but he doesn't seem to have too much hang up with that. Why do you? Or is it just an excuse?"

"God, you're even more annoying than I remembered." Mary teased. "And yeah, there's that. But there's also the whole "I come with more problems than an algebra book" issue, too."

"You think he doesn't know that?" They'd been partnered for how long? "He knows you. He knows your family. Your crazy drunk mom…"

"Hey, she's actually sober now. Well, for now anyway, but it's been a while, and she has a real job. It could stick this time."

"And he knows Brandi, and her propensity to date drug dealers and gang bangers and the like." Katie continued without missing a beat.

"Brandi actually has a real boyfriend. And he has a legit job and money and everything." Damn it if she wasn't a little proud of her baby sister's latest choice in men.

"So they're all doing well, and you're the only one who's lonely and unfulfilled?"

"I'm not lonely!" Mary protested. "And I'm not unfulfilled. I just live alone."

"Sure. But you could be living with him."

Mary's mind drifted off to an image of she and Marshall alone. In his house. Living together. Happily. Could she actually have this? Katie was one of the smartest people she knew, but even she had been known to be wrong at times.

"Earth to Mary." She snapped her fingers in front of her cousin's face. "So I just have one question for you."

"Okay."

"What the hell are you doing in here with me?" Katie shoved her off the bed. "You could be out there with gorgeous guy who loves you!"

"I…" Mary started, but Katie cut her off before she could continue on her self-flagellation and doubt.

"Go, go!" Feet shoved Mary off the bed with a laugh. "Get your man. You both deserve it."

"But…" Mary floundered with the mere idea of "getting her man." Could she do that? Could she just go out there and do what her cousin was pushing her to do? Or would she just end up failing and losing him altogether. That was a thought she could hardly bear. Could Katie be right about this? Was it worth risking her friendship with her partner for some romance that probably wouldn't work out? Could it work out?

"Just promise me one thing." Katie sat up and looked at her solemnly.

"What?"

"You'll be good to him. Marshall's not like most of your men." This was a potential minefield, but for her new friend's sake, Katie knew she had to go there. "He's not a one night stand kind of guy. He's for keeps. You don't just sleep with a man like him and walk away afterward. He's in this for the long haul if you're going to get in this at all."

"Katie…"

"Mary, I love you, and I like him. You two have something special, and you could make it even more amazing. Just be gentle with him. Be ready to be serious about this relationship. He's a serious guy."

"I know that." Mary responded quietly, but she was thinking about her cousin's words.

"I know you do. I just wanted to make sure it got said out loud."

Mary leaned down and kissed her cousin on the cheek. "Thanks for the advice. And congratulations on everything."

Katie stood and hugged Mary warmly. "Any time, thank you, and go get him!" She shoved her taller relative out the bedroom door.

Mary padded down the hallway to find Marshall dozing on the sofa. He looked relaxed, and she took a moment to stand and watch him. Memories of the previous week drifted through her mind. Gentle caresses. Tender kisses. Warm arms encircling her while she slept. God, this could be catastrophic.

Glancing behind her down the hallway, she turned back to her partner resolved. Moving over to the sofa, Mary dropped down beside the slumbering man.

"Huh?" Marshall awoke a bit disoriented.

"It's time for bed." She patted his knee as she stood.

"Okay." His face said it all. Disappointment. Loss. Longing.

"You've got your bags in the car still, right?"

Bags? "Um, yeah?"

"Go get it." She stood and pulled him up beside her.

Confusion and hope flashed across his face, but he did as he was told. Ambling back in from his truck with is bag, he tried to not get his hopes up. He'd sleep on the sofa like always. Nothing had really changed between them. Had it?

Mary was nowhere to be found, so Marshall dropped his bag off beside the sofa and moved to the hall closet to grab blankets and pillows.

"What are you doing?" Mary peered around the door jamb of her bedroom.

"Getting some linens." He shrugged, uncertain of what else to say. The moment was long and awkward as they stood staring at each other. Mary finally shook her head and pushed past him on the way to the living room.

"What are you doing?" He questioned when she returned with his suitcase.

"You'll figure it out." She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her bedroom with her.

"Mary?"

Mary turned and faced him openly. "Why don't you sleep in here tonight?"

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_A/N: Sorry it took so long. I didn't forget about it! Thank you so much if you're still reading. Please feel free to review if you are so inclined!_


	21. Chapter 21

_Author's Note: Yay! I got reviews still! That means people are still reading, and that is like a big hug with words. So, I lied a little. It was unintentional, I assure you, but I discovered that I can't write the epilogue yet. I may need another chapter or two first. So...here's number 21. Enjoy. And no suing me. I never claimed to own these characters, or really anything else. One more week of this rotation, then a little vacation, so no writing for a few days/weeks. Ahhh. Vacation. _

* * *

Marshall was nervous. Really, really nervous. He was in Mary Shannon's bedroom. Her quiet sanctuary. Her place of rest. He was in her bed. Beside her. And he was terrified to move. Was he allowed to move? Was he allowed to roll over? To touch her? And most importantly, why, in the name of all that is holy, was she allowing him in here? Questions swirled through his overactive brain, already in high gear because of the actions of his partner the previous evening. He wasn't a jumpy man, but his analytical mind was in overdrive as he attempted to decipher the intentions behind her invitation.

"Why don't you sleep in here tonight?" That's what she'd said to him. No snark. No sarcasm. No attempt to remove articles of clothing in his presence. So what was her plan? Was she merely saving him the discomfort of sleeping on her lumpy sofa? Was she expecting him to do something; make some sort of move on her? That could end poorly if he DID make an advance and she was unreceptive. Their entire partnership – indeed their very friendship could be ruined. Her trust in him was complete, and he couldn't bring himself to do anything that would jeopardize that. He'd never get her back if he did. She was too important to him to risk it. And he was so close.

Speaking of close, she was oddly still as well. Carefully turning his head to look at her, he took in her form, silhouetted against the darkness of her bedroom. Eyes open. Staring at the ceiling. Definitely awake. Her facial expression was more difficult to see, so he couldn't judge her mood. Her eyes were relaxed, though, and she didn't appear upset. Considering his options, Marshall found himself torn, but thankfully the decision was make for him when Mary swung her feet over the edge of the bed and slipped from the darkened room.

Quietly opening to Katie's room, Mary tiptoed across to the bed and climbed inside.

"Wake up." She poked her cousin.

"I'm up." Katie rolled onto her side so they were facing. "What's going on?"

"What am I supposed to do now?" Mary demanded.

"Huh?"

"I did what you said, and now he's in my room and it's awkward, and I can't sleep. What do I do?" Mary was exasperated. She knew the ball was on her turf, but she had no idea of how to return the volley.

"What did you guys talk about?" Katie patiently asked.

"What do you mean?"

Katie smiled. Her cousin was brilliant, but seriously dense when it came to intrapersonal interactions. "When you left here the first time? What did you talk about? Before bed."

"Nothing." Mary shrugged, wishing she'd done things differently. "We just went to bed."

"So how'd you get him in there?" Katie signed internally. She knew she should have sent Mary off with step-by-step instructions. Instead she'd been too vague, and they were all paying for it now.

"I told him to sleep in my room." Mary shrugged. "Just like you said." Now she was getting defensive. No way she screwed this up already. This was irritating. She hadn't been nervous about having a guy in her room since she was a teenager. Now she's hiding out in a different room begging for advice. God, she was pathetic.

"Okay, so this is simple. Just go back in there and say something like, "Hey, are you awake?" Then you guys can talk."

A nice idea, but Mary was going to need particulars this time. "And then what do I say?"

"What do you want to say? No judgment here, no worries. Just be honest. What would you like to say to him?"

Mary breathed in deeply and took a while to consider the question. What DID she want to say to her partner. Her friend. Her…something else? Mary sighed and flopped onto her back. This was going to be difficult.

"How about I start, and you jump in? I might hit on something close to right." Katie was a godsend. She always had been.

"Sure." Mary mumbled, but it was difficult to hear since she had a pillow over her face.

Katie smiled. "Okay, jump in any time." Deep breath. "Marshall, you're so dreamy. I want to rip your clothes off and make hundreds of babies with you. Ouch!" She winced as Mary's fist connected with her arm. "I'm working here? Do you mind?" She shoved her cousin back and continued. "You're the best friend a girl could ever have, and I hope that we can make wild, monkey love every day until we die."

"You're not helping!" Mary choked through her laughter.

"Oh, yes I am!" Katie sat up and smoothed Mary's hair off of her forehead. "Come on. Seriously. Tell him that he's the best friend a girl could have, and that you wonder if he's interested in taking things farther."

"He is." Mary said tightly.

"He is?" Her interest was piqued. "How do you know? And don't leave anything out!"

"He sort of told me." Mary stopped short at Katie's short intake of breath.

"He TOLD you!" Katie was getting excited. "Tell me, and don't you DARE leave out the details."

Mary sighed. "He told me that I needed to find a guy who more than just a quick lay. That I needed to look for a guy who would get in my face and call me on my bullshit and challenge me. I needed a guy who would make me think."

"And he meant himself." Katie squealed a bit too loudly, then clamped her hand over her mouth guiltily.

"I think he did."

"And then what? What did you say?" Katie was excited.

"I told him I was thinking."

"And then what did you do?" Katie was quietly this time.

"I went to Mexico." Mary shocked out. "With someone else." She was embarrassed at her own actions.

"Did he find out?"

"Yes." Mary remembered the look on Marshall's face. The betrayal. The hurt. It took them months to get back to normal after that. But she had to be honest with Katie. "It was someone he knew. And he hated him."

"You went to Mexico with a guy Marshall hated?" Katie couldn't believe it.

"He even warned me about him." Mary admitted. "Marshall hated him. Saw right through him. And I didn't listen, and I hurt my best friend."

"Well, this is your chance to make things right." Katie was pacing now. "Go in there, and tell him that you've made some mistakes where men are concerned. That you've been looking in all the wrong places, and that you've finally found a guy who makes you think. Tell him that you're done thinking, and you're thinking that he's the kind of guy who could get in your face and…no leave that part out. Tell him that you're interested in pursuing a relationship beyond partnership, and you're hoping that he shares that interest."

"That's kind of long." Mary quipped. "Got anything I can remember?"

"Tell him that you like him. That you're done thinking, and you're thinking that he's the kind of guy you could see yourself settling down with."

"That's kind of girly."

Katie stopped and kissed Mary's forehead. "I hate to tell you this, hon, but you're a girl. And he's already aware of this fact."

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

Katie laughed. "So I've been told." She peeled the blankets off and pulled Mary out of bed. "Now, just go tell him you're done thinking."

"That's it?"

"That's it." Katie assured her. "Now go in there. Poor guy probably thinks you're mad at him."

"He does?" Mary sounded freaked out now.

"No." Katie soothed. "It's Marshall. He's probably right outside with his ear to the door eavesdropping."

"What?"

"Relax." Katie laughed. "He's in bed, probably feeling just as freaked out as you are."

That actually did make Mary feel a little better. Just knowing that she wasn't alone in her distress helped somewhat.

"I just. I don't know." She did know. But she didn't want to say it out loud to anyone.

"Mary, Marshall's a great guy. He's a good friend to you. He tolerates the rest of your family. What's the hold up?"

"Brandi said…" She almost blurted it all out, but clamped her mouth shut and blushed.

"Brandi said what exactly?" Katie pried. This couldn't be good.

"It was when Raph and I were together." Mary's voice sounded distant. Detached. "She was telling me I should be nicer to him because I wasn't going to do any better."

"Jesus, Mary." Katie breathed out in frustration as she sank down on the bed once more. "And you believed her." Not a question. She knew the answer without asking. Of course Mary believed her, because no one had ever bothered telling her that she COULD do better. Expect more. "Mary, listen to me." She waited until Mary looked at her before continuing. "I love Brandi, but she's a moron sometimes."

Mary chuckled a little at that. "I'm serious!" Katie insisted. "To tell you that you can't have a guy who thinks the world of you…a guy who wouldn't cheat on you…EVER…to say that you can't expect that much out of…of…of LIFE, Mary!" Katie's heart broke for her friend. She looked so lost sitting there. "Mary, you're a good person, and you deserve this happiness. You deserve this wonderful man. He loves you. Just go tell him he's allowed to do it out loud now."

Mary was silent for several minutes and she rolled the new ideas around in her head. "So, go in and tell him I'm done thinking." She affirmed, not quite convinced that it would be that easy. But if she was going to take relationship advice from a relative, she be damned if it was going to be Brandi any longer.

"And let him take it from there." Katie was pleased at her matchmaking efforts. She crossed her fingers behind her back and wished that things would work out as Mary quietly closed the door and set forth on her mission.

It took a few moments for Mary's eyes to adjust to the darkness in her bedroom. Everything was exactly where she left it, just as Katie said it would be. Marshall appeared to be snoozing, on arm thrown over his head, face turned toward the door like he was waiting for her. She stood, undecided once more; eyeing the doorknob hungrily, and wondering how far she could make it before someone realized that she was gone. It was Marshall, though. The one sure thing in her life. She knew she could always count on him, and now she needed to extend him the opportunity to reciprocate something she knew he'd been waiting for. This was scarier than she'd imagined, and the reason why she'd never taken this leap before was abundantly clear. Facing possible rejection made her antsy. Nervous. She wiped her palms on her pajamas, frustrated to discover that they were sweaty.

"This is ridiculous." She whispered to no one. Finally making up her mind, she crossed the room quickly and sat on the bed facing her partner. "Marshall?" She whispered. "Marshall, wake up."

He wasn't actually asleep, and she suspected as much.

"Marshall!"

"Mare, what? What is it?" He groggily sat up, dragging himself from the comfortable almost-sleep he'd been approaching.

"Marshall, I…" She stumbled, drew out a forceful breath and tried again. "I…I need to tell you something."

"Okay." She had his full attention now, and he pulled himself up completely and faced her solemnly. "Is everything all right?" When Katie announced her engagement, Marshall's brain was split between being happy for her and watching Mary to make sure she was taking it well. She had seemed genuinely happy for her cousin, and he'd been able to relax and enjoy the girl's festivities.

"Everything's fine." She brushed off his concern. "I just…Jesus. This is hard." As soon as the words were out of her mouth she flashed back to the last time she'd said them.

Marshall was alarmed. "Mare, is something wrong?" She shook her head, but that did nothing too quell his rapidly rising fears. "Hey, it's just me. Talk to me."

She drew in an unsteady breath that had Marshall's heart catching in his throat. "I'm…I'm done…thinking." She finally managed to get it out, and sat frozen with fear while Marshall worked out what she meant with her cryptic remark.

It didn't take him too long, and the light dawned in his brain, eyes opening wider in disbelief. "Mary?" He was at a loss for words. "What are you done thinking about?" He needed to know.

"God, you're gonna make me say it?" She was close to tears now, the tension and fear eating away at her usual tight self control.

"Mare, if you mean what I hope you mean then yes, I am going to need to hear you say it. Just once." He couldn't let his hopes get up too high lest she change her mind or maybe she was having an entirely different conversation altogether. Maybe she meant something else. Maybe…

"Marshall, you told me to look for a different kind of guy." Her voice was still unsteady, and he resisted the urge to reach out to her. "I told you I was thinking." She had to do it. "And then I hurt you by going to Mexico with another man."

"Faber." He spat out, disdain for the man dripping from his voice.

"Right." She acknowledged. "And that was a mistake, and I'm sorry. I…I just. I told you I was thinking. And I'm done thinking. I know a guy just like the one you said I needed. And…" Katie would tell her to be more direct. "I guess I'm asking if you…if your…the…"

"Mare, look at me." He urged quietly, seeing her stumble and deciding to rescue her. When her eyes met his, he asked her the question. The important question that burned him up inside for years. "Are you saying that you are interested in pursuing a relationship outside the bounds of work partnership and friendship with me?"

Mary took a deep breath and tried to steady herself before answering. "Yes." Her gaze was even, and her jaw was set. He knew she meant it.

"To be clear, this is a relationship we're talking about." He had to confirm a few details first before he could celebrate. "Not a one-night stand. Not a fling. Not a guy to fill the void because there isn't anyone else here at the moment." He hoped she didn't get too offended by his questions.

"I wouldn't do that to you." She murmured quietly, head down.

"Hey." He hadn't meant to make her that self-conscious. "I'm just pinching myself here. Making sure I heard you properly."

Mary smiled at his enthusiasm and wondered, not for the first time, about other things that he might be as enthusiastic about. The awkwardness of the moment finally occurred to her as she sat beside him having what her childhood priest would call "impure thoughts."

"So." She started, but had no where else to take that comment.

"I think we should get some sleep." Marshall was almost too excited to even think about sleeping. He felt like a child who had just been given the most important Christmas present ever. Thrilled. Excited. And a little nervous about taking it out of the box.

"Yeah. Sleep." Mary nodded. "Sure. Okay."

"You'll still be here in the morning?" He asked, and glanced at the clock to see how long he had. "Well, later this morning?"

"I'll be here." She assured him as she climbed under the blankets and stretched out beside him once more. Comfortable. Familiar. Images of nights at Quantico drifted through her mind. It didn't surprise her that he wanted to rest on it and discuss the more difficult topics in the morning.

"But will you have changed your mind?" He winced at the insecurity of those words, but found solace when Mary rolled onto her side and curled up against him.

"I'll be here." She promised him. "And nothing will have changed."

They shifted around for a few minutes until they each found a comfortable position, and ended up with Mary on her back and Marshall curled around her like a blanket. He had the wherewithal to close his eyes and imprint the moment on his brain. Gentle lips pressed against her temple, and instead of a sucker punch, she responded with a gentle smile and burrowed closer to him. This was everything he'd dreamt of for so long. It was everything he'd yearned to keep on that twin bed in Virginia. The woman of his dreams – the woman he'd been in love with for so long he'd stopped keeping track. Finally his. They'd iron out the details in the morning or perhaps tomorrow evening. The point was that he finally had her in his arms; and he wasn't letting go.

"Remind me to thank your cousin in the morning." He murmured half asleep.

"Katie?"

"Yeah." He nodded, and breathed her in. Different scent, now in her own room.

Mary was too tired to contemplate his meaning.

* * *

_A/N: I hope there aren't too many typos. I only ever notice the big ones AFTER it's posed, no matter how many times I proofread and edit. Reviews? Also, if anyone is interested, I stumbled upon the FUNNIEST role I've ever seen FWeller in. Watch Southern Belles. Seriously. The movie is just so-so, but FWeller will have you laughing out LOUD! It's a few 180s from the Marshal Marshall Mann character to which I've become accustomed. Ah. Physical comedy._


	22. Chapter 22

_Author's Note: Surprise! I didn't forget about it! School slammed me for MONTHS, but I'm officially one year away from graduating now! Wheee! Doesn't really seem possible, and I'm fairly confident that I need at least an additional year just to fill out all the applications and stuff. BUT, things are good, and here's the last chapter! I hope you are all well. Thanks for reading (if you're still here). _

* * *

Marshall groaned against the bright light and scrubbed his eyes with his right hand. Still bright outside, so probably not time for dinner yet, he glanced down and couldn't help the smile that urged the corners of his mouth up towards the ceiling. He could get up and make dinner, or do a little work. He had laundry that needed washing, dishes that needed loading into the dishwasher. His truck could use a good scrub, but then again his bathroom needed mopping. The list of things he needed to do was longer than one of his arms, but he was content to stay right where he was, stretched out comfortably on the sofa with one leg dangling off, sock-covered foot firmly planted on the floor. He could, he realized, cross one thing off his list if he called his mother. He has been a few days since he'd been free enough to do so since he'd been out of town for the better part of a week. First a trial in Columbia, and then a security breech for one of his witnesses had him driving across the country to relocate a family to Connecticut. He still had some salt water taffy and pralines from South Carolina he'd picked up for Mary in his bag. She'd been stuck in Albuquerque checking on his witnesses and filling out his paperwork.

He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number from memory, long fingers dexterously pressing the buttons almost without thinking.

His mother picked up on the fourth ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mom." Marshall smiled involuntarily. "It's me."

She was thrilled to hear from him, and regaled her youngest son with exciting news from the family. The latest goings-on with his brothers. The newest achievements of her grandchildren. Gossip from the ladies in town. Marshall loved it all, not that he cared that Janet Leggett's youngest girl was caught in the local flea bag motel with a high-ranking city official, but his mother had a way of telling a story that he had loved since he was a small child. She loved to read, and had her imagination could think up a story that rivaled Albert Camus or John Banville.

"How are things with you?" It was their custom. His mom talked first. Told him about her day, the news. Updated him on life in small-town Texas. Then it was Marshall's turn.

"Things are good." He spoke softly and nodded gently as he pondered how to best answer her question.

"How's Mary?" Grace Mann never failed to ask about her son's partner.

"Mary's find, Ma." He fibbed a little.

"Marshall." It was a warning. She could always tell when her sons were lying to her.

A wry smile crossed Marshall's face as he let out a deep sigh.

"How is Mary?" Grace repeated. She knew all about how Marshall felt about his pretty partner, and her husband had tersely informed her that the woman was a fair Marshal. From Seth that was tantamount to affection. She had sensed before Marshall ever told her that her son's relationship with his partner had changed. He was more relaxed on the phone, but more careful about his choice of words. All she had been able to drag out of her son thus far was that he had taken her to dinner a few times. Not an uncommon occurrence altogether, but the way her said it, the care with which he'd taken in picking a restaurant, finding activities that she would enjoy. She as a smart woman, and her son couldn't hide much from her even when he tried.

"Mary's…well, she's been better." He admitted. It was true, in a variety of ways. Mary had been better. Brandi was engaged. Katie was engaged. Brandi's blowout wedding was bound to be an elaborate affair filled with snooty people and snootier waiters carrying trays of tiny food. Katie's wedding would be smaller. More intimate. Marshall volunteered his own backyard, and was in the process of building a gazebo for the bride and groom to stand under during the ceremonies. Mary was dealing with being maid-of-honor for both women, but she'd been sad lately. Marshall wondered if part of her was jealous and a little hurt that the younger ladies were getting married first. She wanted them to be happy, that was no secret, but perhaps she was ill-prepared for the way it made her feel. That wasn't quite what his mother was asking, though, and Marshall knew it.

"What happened?"

"Well, I'm not entirely certain." He admitted, thinking back to the night before.

_It was late when Marshall finally got in from the airport. He'd left his truck at the car park in case no one was available to pick him up, and now, at just past midnight he was grateful for the foresight. True, it would have been nice to be greeted with a coffee and a hug from Mary, but she didn't know when his plane was landing, so that wasn't exactly likely to happen. _

_He hadn't expected to see Mary's car in his driveway when he rounded the corner, however, and couldn't help the smile that crossed his features. Her piece of crap replacement of a replacement car had seen better days, and she was oddly attached to it. Marshall was willing to indulge her attachment since there was so little in her life that she allowed herself to have any sort of emotion for. Still, he had visions of disappearing the clunker and replacing it with something dependable. He was mulling through ways to replace the car, and the kind of vehicle with which he'd like to replace it as he let himself into the house. It was cluttered, evidence that she'd been staying there for at least a few days. The dishwasher was open, and he peered inside as he dropped his keys on the counter. Three mugs, five plates. At least two days worth of dishes. She'd missed him. It was nice. He rather liked having someone that missed him. _

_The door to the bedroom was slightly open, so he carefully pushed it open wider and stepped inside, gently setting his bags on the floor by the dresser. Mary was curled up in his bed, asleep on her side. Marshall leaned his hip against the edge of the dresser and watched, but wasn't sure he liked what he saw. She looked uncomfortable; face pinched and she tossed and turned agitatedly. He noticed she was favoring her left wrist, resting it on his pillow and thrashing around. Injured. She'd been injured while he was away. Being Mary, she'd no doubt refused to go to the hospital to have things checked out. She'd probably refused to take Tylenol even. He could see into the bathroom from where he was standing, and his first aid kit was open, contents spilled over the counter. She'd probably tried to wrap her wrist with an ACE bandage, but had removed it for some reason. _

_A yawn escaped him, and he glanced wistfully towards the clock. One thirty four. God, he was tired. Some things were more important, though, and if he needed to take her to the doctor then that's what he was going to do. Heaven knows she'd had her share of mishaps as a child and had been denied medical attention. Marshall's jaw tightened as he thought of the stories she'd told him recently. Sprained ankles. Concussions. Illnesses that should have been treated. Jinx rarely took the girls to a doctor, and he wondered if her mother's aversion to healthcare hadn't rubbed off on her._

_ Mary's clothes were dumped in a heap on the floor, so it wasn't hard to find clothes for her to slip on. She'd want to be completely dressed for the trip to the ER. If he could convince her to may take a bit of creative wrangling, depending on how much her arm hurt.  
_

"_Mare." He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair out of her face before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. He frowned as he noticed that her face was sweaty. What had happened?_

"_Mare?" He smiled as her eyes fluttered open. "Hey."_

"_You're back." Her voice was hoarse and thick with sleep. _

"_You're hurt." He squeezed her left shoulder and caressed her cheek. "What happened?" She'd been in good shape when he'd talked to her last. _

"_Nothing." She tried to sit up, but couldn't use her left arm. _

"_Here." He wrapped an arm around her back and helped her sit up, then tossed her clothes on the foot of the bed. "Get dressed." _

"_Why?"_

"_So we can go." He stood and grabbed a clean shirt from his dresser for himself, changing quickly while Mary watched him warily, but did enjoy the view. _

"_Go where?" Stalled, torn between stubbornness and real, physical pain.  
_

"_ER." He handed her the clothes. "Come on. Get changed."_

"_Are you sick?" Mary queried, half bluffing. He could have contracted something on the road. He looked tired, but that was understandable at this hour. The ticking of the clock was the only sound in the darkness for a moment while Marshall pondered his response.  
_

_He had to sigh then stifled the yawn that threatened to escape. He knew she'd put up a good fight, but he really was tired. Did she have to be difficult this late? True, it was one of the things he loved about her, but still. The quicker they got to the hospital, the quicker she could get seen, patched up, and then they could both could go to sleep. _

"_No, Mary." He held her shirt up for her to take. "I'm not sick. But you're clearly injured. Want to tell me what happened?"_

_She mumbled something he couldn't make out. "What was that?"_

"_I said it was stupid." She looked genuinely embarrassed. _

"_What was stupid?" He urged her out of bed and helped her get out of his tee shirt that she'd stolen for her own. "Put this on." _

"_I was in your kitchen." She admitted sheepishly as she told him the story. "And I was trying to clean up before you got here." She was having trouble pulling her hair back into a ponytail, and finally gave up, rolling the elastic band onto her right wrist. "But you wax your floor like freaking Donna Reed, and I slipped."_

"_And fell on your wrist." He finished for her, and helped her button up her jeans. He knew from experience how difficult some tasks were with only one working arm. It still amazed him, even five months later that she let him get this close to her. Touch her. Hold her. Mary surprised him. He'd figured her for the "don't touch me" type, given her well-voiced aversion to physical contact. However, she'd quickly warmed to him, allowing him to hold her, hug her. She even started initiating such contact herself after a few months. It seemed as though she craved his touch, physical affection deprived from her for so long that now she was trying to make up for it. Marshall wasn't one to complain, and willingly obliged her needs. To him, spending a lazy afternoon on the sofa with Mary in his arms was his version of heaven, even if he did still have to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The reality of being with Mary was so much better than all of his fantasies. _

"_Yeah."He finally responded, hoping she didn't notice the lapse.  
_

"_Do you think it's broken?" He asked as he knelt and helped her tie her sneakers. _

"_Um." Mary hesitated and looked at her swollen wrist a bit forlornly and huffed, "Yeah, probably." _

"_Were you planning on getting that looked at?" She was agreeing to this trip to the hospital too easily. It had to be broken, and she must be in incredible pain. _

"_Come on." He draped an arm around her shoulders and ushered her out the door to the truck. Egging her on wasn't going to garner a response. This was time to take charge. _

"So we spent six hours in the emergency room, and it turns out she has a fracture of the distal radius. It's all reduced and casted now, but it'll be eight weeks before it heals."

"How's she handling that?" Grace's voice was full of concern for her son's friend.

"Well, they gave her some good drugs at the ER for the pain, so right now she's taking it pretty well." At the moment, she was passed out cold half on top of him, with her head pillowed on his chest tucked up under his chin.

"Well, maybe that'll soften the blow." His mother joked. "Is she okay?" More serious now.

"She'll be fine." He ran his fingers through her long hair; a little tangled since she hadn't brushed it before the trip to the ER. "She's scrappy." He wondered about the trials that had taught her to so independent, though. She accepted his help today, though, and that's all that mattered. He had her now, and he could take care of her. She was even letting him take care of her, so things were looking up.

"How are you?" His mother always knew what he was thinking.

"I'm not the one with a broken arm." He deflected, pressing his lips to his partner's hair, not the slightest bit aware that he was absently stroking up and down her casted arm in an unconscious attempt to soothe the pain.

"Marshall!" His mother demanded.

"Fine, Mom." He blew out an irritated breath. "I'm aggravated that I wasn't here to take her to the ER to start with. I'm frustrated that she wouldn't take herself. I'm annoyed that it took four hours sitting in the waiting room to get into see a doctor. I'm worried that she won't take care of herself and she'll reinjure it, and I'm exhausted because I haven't really slept in two days."

"Have you told her yet?"

Marshall's sleep-deprived brain spun at the rapid change of subjects. A wave of dizziness washed over him as he realized what she was asking. "Have I told her?" He stalled, hoping for a reprieve.

"It's been eight years, my dear boy." Grace had seen enough of her youngest son pining away for this woman. It was time to make a move. "Tell the woman you love her. It's time."

"Mom, she's not…it's not…it's not the right time." If he told her, she'd run. Then he would lose her, and all this careful work be be for naught. It wasn't time to drop that bomb. He needed more time.

"Why?" She'd had enough. "Because she's not ready? Because her father left her and she has abandonment issues? Because you're worried you'll lose her forever if you tell her the truth?" She paused and let her words sink in before continuing. "Have you considered that if you don't tell her how you feel that you'll never really have her to begin with? Have you considered that she might need you to tell her how you feel? That she might react favorably to someone loving her? And maybe, just maybe she already knows. Perhaps you're more transparent than you think."

Marshall was silent as he considered her words. His mother had a point, as always, and tended to hit the nail right on the head. She was a smart lady, his mother. And she made some solid points. "You should have been a lawyer." He murmured under his breath.

"Nah." She chuckled. "I'm carbon-based."

"Marshall, I didn't raise my boys to be afraid to tell the woman they love how they feel. Especially not you." She smiled fondly, remembering her sweet, sensitive boy as a child.

"Ma!" He lowered his voice when Mary shifted on him and groaned. It was probably time for her to take some more meds.

"Where is Mary? Right now?"

How did she always know? He'd never been able to hide anything from her, not even as a kid.

"Right here." There was no point in being evasive about it. "With me on the sofa."

"Asleep." She didn't bother phrasing it as a question. Emergency rooms handed out strong medications for broken bones.

"Yes." Marshall shifted uncomfortably under the heat of his mother's spotlight.

"So, call me tomorrow and tell me how it went." It wasn't really a request, and Marshall was not dumb enough to interpret it as such.

"Mom." He did have some self-preservational tendencies left, though.

"Talk to you tomorrow." She hung up abruptly, and Marshall was left holding a phone, bereft of what to do next.

Mary turned her head and raised one arm to her forehead, effectively smacking herself in the head with her casted wrist.

"Oomph." She was a bit disoriented waking up, still groggy from the pain killers. "What the…?"

"Hey." He tightened his arms around her, and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"I think I just clocked myself." She muttered.

"Yeah, pretty much." He helped her sit up. "Wrist hurting?"

"Mmmhmm. A little." She admitted, surprising him once more. "I'll be right back."

Marshall was more than a little shocked at her open admission, but she had made an effort to be more open with him. She slept more, too, which irritated Mary, and made Marshall warm inside. She'd stay awake through dinner, usually, but as soon as the dishes were put away and they'd settled on the sofa, outside on the deck chairs, wherever, she nearly instantly fell asleep. She ranted about it later, when she woke up, but Marshall was fairly certain he understood. Possibly she was finally relaxed enough to sleep well, and was unintentionally making up for years of sleeping with one eye open. Always looking over her shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had to be exhausting, and now she could relax. He found it endearing. She found it obnoxious.

"So, you mentioned something about more meds?" Mary prompted as she sat back down on the sofa.

"Uh, yeah." He grabbed a water bottle from the coffee table and tossed her the bottle of Percocet.

It was now or never, Marshall sighed, taking the bottle from her when she was done. "So, I talked to my mom today."

"Oh, yeah?" Mary settled her back against his chest and got comfortable again. "How is she?"

"She's fine." Marshall smiled smoothed her hair off her cheek. "She asked about you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He took a deep breath. It was now or never. Time to take his mother's advice. She'd better be right about this. Then again, his mother was always right. And the older he got, the more true he realized that was. His mother was right. And the way Mary was looking up at him right now, the trust and affection in her eyes, and a healthy dose of narcotics, calmed his nerves as he took a deep breath and told his best friend that he loved her. Sometimes, it was wonderful having a mother that was always right. Marshall made a mental note to send her a card as he lay in bed with Mary later that evening. She hadn't run.

Mary rolled off his arm and murmured something in her sleep that only Marshall could understand.

"I love you, too, Mare." He returned softly, not one bit afraid that she would hear. He felt complete. Tied together. He felt whole.

* * *

_That's it! The end. Fin. Finis. Thanks for sticking around!_


End file.
